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all about it. “That will be the Juan Fernandez ,” he said. “Your friend won’t be the first who has sunk money trying to get money out of her. It is a romantic notion.”
    ‘ “And probably the whole story is a myth,” I said. “No ship was ever wrecked there at all.”
    ‘ “Oh, the ship was sunk there right enough,” said the Inspector—“along with a good company of others. You would be surprised if you knew how many wrecks there are on that part of the coast. As a matter of fact, that is what takes me down there now. That is where the Otranto was wrecked six months ago.”
    ‘ “I remember reading about it,” I said. “No lives were lost, I think?”
    ‘ “No lives were lost,” said the Inspector; “but something else was lost. It is not generally known, but the Otranto was carrying bullion.”
    ‘ “Yes?” I said, much interested.
    ‘ “Naturally we have had divers at work on salvage operations, but— the gold has gone, Mr West .”
    ‘ “Gone!” I said, staring at him. “How can it have gone?”
    ‘ “That is the question,” said the Inspector. “The rocks tore a gaping hole in her strongroom. It was easy enough for the divers to get in that way, but they found the strongroom empty. The question is, was the gold stolen before the wreck or afterwards? Was it ever in the strongroom at all?”
    ‘ “It seems a curious case,” I said.
    ‘ “It is a very curious case, when you consider what bullion is. Not a diamond necklace that you could put into your pocket. When you think how cumbersome it is and how bulky—well, the whole thing seems absolutely impossible. There may have been some hocus-pocus before the ship sailed; but if not, it must have been removed within the last six months—and I am going down to look into the matter.”
    ‘I found Newman waiting to meet me at the station. He apologized for the absence of his car, which had gone to Truro for some necessary repairs. Instead, he met me with a farm lorry belonging to the property.
    ‘I swung myself up beside him, and we wound carefully in and out of the narrow streets of the fishing village. We went up a steep ascent, with a gradient, Ishould say, of one in five, ran a little distance along a winding lane, and turned in at the granite-pillared gates of Pol House.
    ‘The place was a charming one; it was situated high up the cliffs, with a good view out to sea. Part of it was some three or four hundred years old, and a modern wing had been added. Behind it farming land of about seven or eight acres ran inland.
    ‘ “Welcome to Pol House,” said Newman. “And to the Sign of the Golden Galleon.” And he pointed to where, over the front door, hung a perfect reproduction of a Spanish galleon with all sails set.
    ‘My first evening was a most charming and instructive one. My host showed me the old manuscripts relating to the Juan Fernandez . He unrolled charts for me and indicated positions on them with dotted lines, and he produced plans of diving apparatus, which, I may say, mystified me utterly and completely.
    ‘I told him of my meeting with Inspector Badgworth, in which he was much interested.
    ‘ “They are a queer people round this coast,” he said reflectively. “Smuggling and wrecking is in their blood. When a ship goes down on their coast they cannot help regarding it as lawful plunder meant for their pockets. There is a fellow here I should like you to see. He is an interesting survival.”
    ‘Next day dawned bright and clear. I was taken downinto Polperran and there introduced to Newman’s diver, a man called Higgins. He was a wooden-faced individual, extremely taciturn, and his contributions to the conversation were mostly monosyllables. After a discussion between them on highly technical matters, we adjourned to the Three Anchors. A tankard of beer somewhat loosened the worthy fellow’s tongue.
    ‘ “Detective gentleman from London has come down,” he grunted. “They do say that that ship that