In Her Own Right Part 62

"It seems to me there is something queer about these postscripts," she said, at last; "something is needed to make them clear. Is this the entire letter?--didn't you find anything else?"

"Nothing!" said Croyden.

"May I look?" she asked.

"Most a.s.suredly, sweetheart."

"It's a bit dark in this hole. Let me have a match."

She struck it, and peered back into the recess.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "Here is something!--only a corner visible." She put in her hand. "It has slipped down, back of the false part.i.tion.

I'll get it, presently.--There!"

She drew out a tiny sheet of paper, and handed it to Croyden.

"Does that help?" she asked.

Croyden glanced at it; then gave a cry of amazed surprise.

"It does!" he said. "It does! It's the key to the mystery. Listen!"

The rest crowded around him while he read:

"Hampton, Maryland.

"5 Oct. 1738.

"Memorandum to accompany the letter of Robert Parmenter, dated 10 May 1738.

"Whereas, it is stipulated by the said Parmenter that the Jewels shall be used only in the Extremity of Need; and hence, as I have an abundance of this world's Goods, that Need will, likely, not come to me. And judging that Greenberry Point will change, in time--so that my son or his Descendants, if occasion arise, may be unable to locate the Treasure--I have lifted the Iron box, from the place where Parmenter buried it, and have reinterred it in the cellar of my House in Hampton, renewing the Injunction which Parmenter put upon it, that it shall be used only in the Extremity of Need. When this Need arise, it will be found in the south-east corner of the front cellar. At the depth of two feet, between two large stones, is the Iron box. It contains the jewels, the most marvelous I have ever seen.

"Marmaduke Duval."

For a moment, they stood staring at one another too astonished to speak.

"My Lord!" Macloud finally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "To think that it was here, all the time!"

Croyden caught up the lamp.

"Come on!" he said.

They trooped down to the cellar, Croyden leading the way. Moses was off for the evening, they had the house to themselves. As they pa.s.sed the foot of the stairs, Macloud picked up a mattock.

"Me for the digging!" he said. "Which is the south-east corner, Davila?"

"There, under those boxes!" said she.

They were quickly tossed aside.

"The ground is not especially hard," observed Macloud, with the first stroke. "I reckon a yard square is sufficient.--At a depth of two feet the memorandum says, doesn't it?"

No one answered. Fascinated, they were watching the fall of the pick.

With every blow, they were listening for it to strike the stones.

"Better get a shovel, Croyden, we'll need it," said Macloud, pausing long enough, to throw off his coat.... "Oh! I forgot to say, I wired the Pinkerton man to recover the package you buried this morning."

Croyden only nodded--stood the lamp on a box, and returned with the coal scoop.

"This will answer, I reckon," he said, and fell to work.

"It seems absurd!" remarked Macloud, between strokes. "To have hunted the treasure, for weeks, all over Greenberry Point, and then to find it in the cellar, like a can of lard or a bushel of potatoes."

"You haven't found it, yet," Croyden cautioned. "And we've gone the depth mentioned."

"No! we haven't found it, yet!--but we're going to find it!" Macloud answered, sinking the pick, viciously, in the ground, with the last word.

Crack!

It had struck hard against a stone.

"What did I tell you?" Macloud cried, sinking the pick in at another place.

Crack!

Again, it struck! and again! and again! The fifth stroke laid the stone bare--the sixth and seventh loosened it, still more--the eighth and ninth completed the task.

"Give me the shovel!" said he.

When the earth was away and the stone exposed, he stooped and, putting his fingers under the edges, heaved it out.

"The rest is for you, Croyden!" and stepped aside.

The iron box was found!

For a moment, Croyden looked at it, rather dazedly. Could it be the jewels were _there_!--within his reach!--under that lid! Suddenly, he laughed!--gladly, gleefully, as a boy--and sprang down into the hole.

The box clung to its resting place for a second, as though it was reluctant to be disturbed--then it yielded, and Croyden swung it onto the bank.

"We'll take it to the library," he said, sc.r.a.ping it clean of the adhering earth.

And carrying it before them, like the Ark of the Covenant, they went joyously up to the floor above.

He placed it on the table under the chandelier, where all could see. It was of iron, rusty with age; in dimension, about a foot square; and fastened by a hasp, with the bar of the lock thrust through but not secured.

"Light the gas, Colin!--every burner," he said. "We'll have the full effulgence, if you please."...

For a little time, the lid resisted. Suddenly, it yielded.