forefinger to reveal a large shiny blue stone, cut square and polished on one face.
“Sapphire?” she guessed, and I took it from her and examined it quickly in the lantern light. It was opaque and I contradicted her.
No, I think it’s probably lapis lazuli.” The scrap of paper still adhering to it was faintly discoloured with a blue dye. “Ink, I should say.” I crumpled. it between my fingers. “At least Roger, the Colonel, took the trouble to identify each stone. He probably wrapped each piece in a numbered slip of paper which related to a master sketch of the throne to enable it to be reassembled.”
“There is no hope of that now,” said Sherry.
“I don’t know I said. “it would be a hell of a job, but it would still be possible to put it all together again.”
Amongst our stores was a roll of plastic packets, and I sent Angelo to ferret it out. As we opened each parcel of rotted fabric we superficially cleaned the stones it contained and packed each lot in a separate plastic packet.
It was slow work even though we all contributed and after almost two hours of it we had filled dozens of packets with thousands of semi-precious stones - lapis lazuli, beryl, tigees eye, garnets, verdite, amethyst, and half a dozen others of whose identity I was uncertain. Each stone had clearly been lovingly cut and exactingly polished to fit into its own niche in the golden throne.
It was only when we had unpacked the chest to its last layer that we came upon the stones of greater value. The old Colonel had obviously selected these first and they had gone into the lowest layer of the chest.
I held a transparent plastic packet of emeralds to the lantern light, and they burned like a bursting green star.
We all stared at it as if mesmerized while I turned it slowly to catch the fierce white light.
I laid it aside and Sherry dipped once more into the chest and after a moment’s hesitation brought out a smaller parcel. She rubbed away the damp crumbling material, that was wound thick about the single stone it contained.
Then she held up the Great Mogul diamond in the cupped palm of her hand. It was the size of a pullet’s egg, cut into a faceted cushion shape, just as Jean Baptiste Tavernier had described it so many hundred years ago.
The glittering array of treasure we had handled before in no way dimmed the glory of this stone, as all the stars of the firmament cannot dull the rising of the sun. They paled and faded away before the brilliance and lustre of the great diamond.
Sherry slowly extended her cupped hand towards Angelo, offering it to him to hold and examine, but he snatched his hands away and clasped them behind his back, still staring at the stone in superstitious awe.
Sherry turned and offered it to Chubby, but with gravity he declined also.
“Give it to Mister Harry. Guess he deserves to be the one.”
I took it from her, and was surprised that such unearthly fire could be so cold to touch. I stood up and I carried it to where the golden tiger’s head stood snarling angrily in the unwavering light of the lanterns and I pressed the diamond into the empty eye socket.
It fitted perfectly, and I used my baitknife to close the golden clasps that held it firmly in place, and which the old Colonel had probably opened with a bayonet a century and a quarter ago.
I stood back then, and I heard the small gasps of wonder. With the eye returned to its socket the golden beast had come to life. It seemed now to survey us with an imperial mien, and at any instant we expected the cave to resound to its crackling wicked snarl of anger.
I went back and took my place in the squatting circle around the rusted chest, and we all stared up at the golden tiger head. We seemed like worshippers in some ancient heathen tire, crouched in awe before the fearsome idol.
“Chubby, my old well beloved and trusted buddy, you will earn yourself an entry on the title page of the book of mercy if you pass me that bottle,” I said, and that broke the spell. They all recovered their voices competing fiercely for a turn to speak - and it wasn’t long before I had to send Sherry to fetch another bottle to lubricate dry throats.
We all got more than a little drunk that night, even Sherry North, and she leaned against me for support as we finally made a riotous way through the rain to our own cave.
“You really are corrupting me, Fletcher,” she stumbled into a puddle, and nearly brought me down. “This is the first time ever I have been stoned.”
“Be of good cheer, my pretty sweeting, your next lesson in corruption follows immediately.”
When I woke it was still dark and I rose from our bed, careful not to disturb Sherry who was Wbreathing lightly and evenly in the darkness. It was cool so I pulled on shorts and a woollen jersey.
Outside the cave the west wind had broken up the cloud banks. It had stopped raining and the stars were showing in the breaks of the heavens, giving me enough light to read the luminous dial of my wristwatch. It was a little after three o’clock.
As I sought my favourite palm tree, I saw that we had left the lantern burning in the storage cave. I finished what I had to do and went up to the lighted entrance.
The open chest stood where we had left it, as did the priceless golden head with its glittering eye - and suddenly I was struck with the consuming terror that the miser must feel for his hoard. It was so vulnerable.
“ - where thieves break in-” I thought, and it was not as though there were any shortage of them in the immediate vicinity.
I had to get it all stowed away safely, and tomorrow would be too late. Despite the pain in my head and the taste of stale whisky in the back of my throat, it must be done now - but I needed help.
Chubby roused to my first soft call at the entrance of his cave, and came out into the starlight, resplendent in his striped pyjamas and as wide awake as if he had drank nothing more noxious than mother’s milk before retiring.
I explained my fears and misgivings. Chubby grunted in agreement and went with me back to the storage cave. The plastic bags of gem stones we repacked casually into the iron chest and I secured the lid with a length of nylon line. The golden head we shrouded carefully in a length of green canvas tarpaulin and we carried both down into the palm grove, before returning for spades and the gas lantern.
By the flat white glare of the lantern we worked side by side, digging two shallow graves in the sandy soil within a few feet of where the gelignite and the FN rifle with its spare ammunition were already buried.
We laid the chest and the golden head away and covered them.
Afterwards I brushed the soil over them with a palm frond to wipe out all trace of our labours.
“You happy now, Harry?” Chubby asked at last.
“Yeah, I’m happier, Chubby. You go and get some sleep, hear.”
He went away amongst the palms carrying the lantern and not looking back. I knew I would not be able to sleep again, for the spadework had cleared my head and roused my blood. It would be senseless to return to the cave and try to lie quietly beside Sherry until dawn.
I wanted to find some quiet and secret place where I could think out my next moves in this intricate game of chance in which I was involved. I chose the path that led to the saddle between the lesser peaks and as I climbed it, the last of the clouds were blown aside and revealed a pale yellow moon still a week from full. Its light was strong enough to show me the way to the nearest peak and I left the path and toiled upwards to the summit.
I found a place protected from the wind and settled into it. I wished that I had a cheroot with me for I think better with one of them in my mouth. I also think better without a hangover - but there was nothing I could do about either.
After half an hour I had firmly decided that we must consolidate what we had gained to this point. The miser’s fears, which had assailed me earlier still persisted and I had been given clear warning that the wolf pack was out hunting. As soon as it was light we would take what we had salvaged so far - the head and the chest - and run down the island to St. Mary’s to dispose of them in the manner which I had already so carefully planned.
There would be time later to return to Gunfire Reef and recover what remained in the misty depths of the pool. Once the decision had been made I felt a lift of relief, a new lightness of spirit, and I looked forward to the solution of the other major puzzle that had troubled me for so long.
Very soon I would be in a position to call Sherry North’s hand and have a sight of those cards which she concealed so carefully from me. I wanted to know what caused those shadows in the blue depths of her eyes, and
