"we will--"

"Nonsense. The company can afford the royalty, Joe, for it is making a
heap of money--more than I wish it were. One of my greatest trials is to
take care of the money I've already made, and--"

"And he couldn't do it at all without my help," broke in the Major.
"Don't ye hesitate to take an advantage of him, Joseph, if ye can get
it--which I doubt--for Mr. Merrick is most disgracefully rich already."

"That's true," sighed the little millionaire. "So it will be a royalty,
Joe. We are paying the same percentage to Bob West for the Almaquo
tract, but yours is so much better that I am sure your earnings will
furnish you and Ethel with all the income you need."

They sat discoursing upon the happy event for some time longer, but Joe
had to return to the hotel early because he was not yet strong enough to
be out late.

"Before I go, Mr. Merrick," he said, "I'd like you to give me my
mother's picture, which is in the secret drawer of the cupboard. You
have the keys, now, and Ethel is curious to see how my mother looked."

Uncle John went at once to the cupboard and unlocked the doors. Joe
himself pushed the slide and took out of the drawer the picture, which
had lain just beneath the Almaquo stock certificates.

The picture was passed reverently around. A sweet-faced, sad little
woman it showed, with appealing eyes and lips that seemed to quiver even
in the photograph.

As Louise held it in her hand something induced her to turn it over.

"Here is some writing upon the back," she said.

Joe bent over and read it aloud. It was in his father's handwriting.

"'Press the spring in the left hand lower corner of the secret drawer.'"

"Hah!" cried Uncle John, while the others stared stupidly. "That's it!
That's the information we've been wanting so long, Joseph!"

He ran to the cupboard, even as he spoke, and while they all thronged
about him thrust in his hand, felt for the spring, and pressed it.

The bottom of the drawer lifted, showing another cavity beneath. From
this the searcher withdrew a long envelope, tied with red tape.

"At last, Joseph!" he shouted, triumphantly waving the envelope over his
head. And then he read aloud the words docketed upon the outside:
"'Warranty Deed and Conveyance from Charles Walton to Jonas Wegg and
William Thompson.' Our troubles are over, my boy, for here is the key to
your fortune."

"Also," whispered Louise to her cousins, rather disconsolately, "it
explains the