The cache is NOT at the listed coordinates. If you try to go there you'll get wet and be eaten by the Seymour Pond Monster.
This is a replacement for GC6PE5B which introduced the Middle Sea Embezzler, Rob Deeppocket. It was archived when its once-secluded waterhole turned into a school holidays attraction for light-fingered muggles. This reincarnation is set three months later...
"Sir, have you seen today's paper?" Constable George Cacher asked, dashing into Sheriff Plodfoot's office and waving it about like he was swatting flies.
"No, but I guess you're about to show me."
"It's right on the front page. Look!"
Plodfoot sighed. "We'd better get to work before that damned banker and his mates start shooting people willy-nilly."
"Goodfellow, I've heard that name just recently." Cacher flicked his fingers. "I know! A couple of nights back the publican in Noo's Tavern said he'd had a lodger by that name but he shot through without paying. Right cut up about it, he was, and was talking about sending out a party to round him up."
Plodfoot sighed again. "That's all we need, two vigilante mobs that'll end up shooting each other. Cacher, I want you to go talk to the publican, find out everything he knows about Goodfellow and make him think an arrest is imminent, while I go and try to talk some sense into the banker."
Plodfoot grabbed his hat, stepped from the gaolhouse and mounted his...
"Oh no, not again. Cacher, where's my horse?"
Cacher had already dashed off to the tavern, but an old lady who'd been sitting on the stoop rose to address him. "Are you looking for your horse, Sheriff? That friend of yours borrowed it again."
"Friend?"
"You know, the tall one in the black hat who took it last time."
Plodfoot moaned. "The bushranger, I should have known."
"He told me to tell you he'd retrieve your missing cash and leave your horse at Seymour's pond."
So he and Deeppocket aren't as chummy as the paper makes out, Plodfoot thought. "That's a big pond. Did he say where it'd be?"
"No, but he said you can figure it out from the newspaper."
Plodfoot read through the article again before shaking his head. "There's nothing in here that I can see."
"He said it's not in the words but what's behind them."
Plodfoot turned the paper over but again drew a blank.
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure." The woman stared at Plodfoot's shirt. "Tell me, Sheriff, do you do your own washing?"
"Um, yes."
"That discoloured water mark on your shirt, you know you really should separate the colours in your wash."
"Oh, I see ... separate the colours, yes, I see! Thank you!"
He kissed her on the forehead before dashing off to requisition a horse from Honest John.
Use the checker below to confirm the location of Plodfoot's horse (WP1).
The final container is a 2.5 litre steel cash box (since it's all about money!) and includes a pencil and sharpener. There are also some bushranger special edition five pound notes for the taking for anyone wanting a keepsake.