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XII. The Strange Story of Jonathan Small

           IwassittinginmyhutwhenheandCaptainMorstancamestumblingalongonthewaytotheirquarters.Theywerebosomfriends,thosetwo,andneverfarapart.Themajorwasravingabouthislosses.

           “‘It’sallup,Morstan,’hewassaying,astheypassedmyhut.‘Ishallhavetosendinmypapers.Iamaruinedman.’

           “‘Nonsense,oldchap!’saidtheother,slappinghimupontheshoulder.‘I’vehadanastyfacermyself,but—’ThatwasallIcouldhear,butitwasenoughtosetmethinking.

           “AcoupleofdayslaterMajorSholtowasstrollingonthebeach:soItookthechanceofspeakingtohim.

           “‘Iwishtohaveyouradvice,major,’saidI.

           “‘Well,Small,whatisit?’heasked,takinghischerootfromhislips.

           “‘Iwantedtoaskyou,sir,’saidI,‘whoistheproperpersontowhomhiddentreasureshouldbehandedover.Iknowwherehalfamillionworthlies,and,asIcannotuseitmyself,IthoughtperhapsthebestthingthatIcoulddowouldbetohanditovertotheproperauthorities,andthenperhapstheywouldgetmysentenceshortenedforme.’

           “‘Halfamillion,Small?’hegasped,lookinghardatmetoseeifIwasinearnest.

           “‘Quitethat,sir,—injewelsandpearls.Itliestherereadyforanyone.Andthequeerthingaboutitisthattherealownerisoutlawedandcannotholdproperty,sothatitbelongstothefirstcomer.’

           “‘Togovernment,Small,’hestammered,—‘togovernment.’Buthesaiditinahaltingfashion,andIknewinmyheartthatIhadgothim.

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