“Yes?” Sir Percival said politely.
“Ah... well, look, Sir Percival,” Clarence said, trying to make up his mind without quite knowing what he wanted to make up his mind about. “What I mean is — well, what I figured I’d get for your fee — well, what do the words actually say?”
“Just what I’ve just finished telling you,” Sir Percival said with the air of one whose patience is not limitless. He withdrew a pocket watch and looked at it rather pointedly.
“At least, does it say how big the treasure is?” Clarence asked, almost wailing, picking at straws.
Sir Percival paused and then nodded, as if Clarence had raised an interesting point. He checked his watch again, seemed to come to the conclusion that he still had several minutes before he had to run, and seated himself comfortably in a chair.
“Now, that’s a rather fascinating subject for conjecture,” he said musingly. “Although I believe we can make some decent assumptions, and come to some rather startling conclusions. We can assume, for example, with every degree of accuracy, that the J. Avery mentioned in the scroll is none other than the famous — or, rather, infamous — pirate, John Avery. We can make this deduction since this is the Avery farm, and since the scroll was hidden here. And also — although I suppose I should not be telling you this — the scroll apparently is based upon one of his major acts of piracy—”
(“I tried to tell you about that Avery bit,” Simpson said to Clarence reproachfully, “but you wouldn’t listen.” “Shut up,” Clarence said uncharitably. “Go on, Sir Percival.”)
“Yes. Well,” Sir Percival said, tenting his fingers and contemplating them all over them, “we know that John Avery, alias Every, alias Bridgeman, and also known among the fraternity as Long Ben and the Arch-Pirate, was born in this general vicinity, give or take a hundred miles or so, and went to sea as a youth in the merchant marine. This was not, of course, uncommon among youths at the time, but what was a bit unusual, possibly, was that after becoming a mate, John Avery led a mutiny and took the crew and ship into piracy. He was quite active as well as being successful — the two are not always synonymous — but his major stroke was the famous prize he took in the Red Sea, a ship, as I’ve stated before, of the Great Mogul. And on that ship, and a treasure never seen since, was a booty of” — he paused for effect — “100,000 gold pieces of eight...”
Clarence gulped. “How — how much is that in today’s money?”
Sir Percival considered, a slight frown accompanying his calculations.
“Let us see. The piece of eight has been considered by some to be named for a coin which was the equivalent of eight reales. Others — and for the purposes of this discussion I throw my weight in this direction — thought of it as the doblón de ocho of the Spain of the era, the doubloon of eight escudo of gold, as we call it. Its weight was a trifle under twenty-eight grams, or approximately one ounce in today’s scale.”
Clarence was stunned. One thing he knew very well was numbers; another was money.
“One hundred thousand ounces of gold? One hundred thousand ounces of gold?” He took a deep breath, trying to control the trembling that had begun to take him in its grip. “At over two hundred dollars an ounce? That’s... that’s twenty million dollars!” He leaned toward Pugh. “Where is it? Where is it?”
Sir Percival shook his head regretfully.
“I’m afraid that was not in our deal. You wished to know what the parchment represented. I have told you. And now, if you and Harold are both busy, possibly you might at least drive me to the train? After paying my fee, of course.”
“Hold it! Hold it!” The thought of losing twenty million dollars was, in itself, unthinkable. Clarence tried to bring his whirling thoughts to some sort of order. Twenty million bucks! Twenty million smackeroos! That old man Carruthers had sure been right when he said there was enough for them all! But that didn’t mean that any of it had to be thrown away! And to think it all started because Harold picked up a newspaper someone had left in a bar, which in turn had led him to kidnaping the old man for a paltry twenty grand! Old Opportunity had done himself proud, this time! He brought himself back to earth, swallowing. “Look, Sir Percival. There’s plenty for everyone. After all, I showed you the scroll. It wouldn’t be right for you to try to cut me out of the deal.”
Sir Percival considered Clarence for several moments. Then, at last, and with a sigh, he made up his mind.
“Possibly you are right,” he said. “Legally, for your information, you haven’t a leg to stand on. You not only showed me the scroll, as you yourself have just now stated, but you even offered me a fee to read it — a fee, I might mention, which has yet to be paid. But in a moral sense, I expect you have a point. However, since I now know where the treasure is — and you do not — and since I can move quite quickly when necessary, I suggest that my portion be seventy-five per cent, and yours be the balance.”
“Wait a second!” Briggs said hotly. “What about us? After all, Billy-Boy thought of—” He seemed to realize what he was saying. “I mean,” he said a bit sheepishly, since he had to say something, “we found the scroll in the first place.”
Again Sir Percival considered.
“I suppose there is some justice in what you say,” he said, and tried to be fair about the matter. “What about seventy-five per cent for me, and you three and Clarence and Harold to divide the other twenty-five per cent. After all,” he pointed out, “that would be five per cent each, which is not to be caviled at, considering the sum of money we are talking about.”
“Wait a second!” Clarence said angrily. “There’s only one of you, and two of us!”
“And three of us,” Carruthers pointed out. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
“And those old men know what’s on the parchment, too,” Clarence added angrily. “You’re not the only one can read Latin!”
“True. I should have expected that Simpson, at least, and also possibly Carruthers, would be familiar with the translation,” Pugh said sadly, while Briggs bridled at being left out. “A problem...” Sir Percival pursed his lips and closed his eyes, as if to better plan a fair and equitable distribution of the huge sum of money. At last he opened his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain. We’ll do it this way,” he said, his regret at giving up such a large share of the money evident in his voice. “Since we are, in effect, three interested parties, we’ll divide the money into three equal portions. One third, of course, to me; one third to Clarence and Harold, and one third to Mr. Carruthers and his two friends.”
Clarence was about to object again, when he realized that once they all had their individual shares, he could easily kidnap one of the old men again — anyone but that big-mouthed runt, Briggs — and end up with a good portion of their share as well.
“Okay,” he said brusquely. “Now, what does that thing say?”
Sir Percival held up an admonitory hand.
“One moment,” he said. “I believe in cases such as this it is customary to make some gesture to indicate the good faith of the parties involved.”
“Now what do you mean?” Clarence was beginning to get irked with these constant interruptions that were preventing him from getting at the treasure as soon as possible.
“What I mean is quite simple,” Sir Percival said easily. “In cases such as this, since we intend to share a considerable amount of money in three equal parts, some gesture — usually in the form of an equal contribution of money — is made by all three parties.”