was a favorite with the old man, who refrained from scolding him
but stood a moment looking curiously at the box.

"Carry it into the office," he said at last to Sam. "And you, Allen,
come along."

CHAPTER VI

THE BROKEN CHEST

Sam lifted the big chest, and, very carefully this time to make amends
for his previous dereliction, carried it into the private office. He
placed it on two chairs that his employer indicated and then withdrew,
closing the door softly behind him and rejoicing at having got off so
easily.

"Well, Allen," remarked Tyke, wiping his glasses and replacing them on
the bridge of his nose, "you're going to get your wish sooner than
either one of us expected."

"What do you mean?" asked Drew wonderingly.

"Don't you see anything familiar about this box?" replied Tyke,
answering a question in Yankee fashion by asking one.

"I don't know that I do," responded the other. Then, as he bent over
to examine the broken chest more closely, he corrected himself.

"Why, yes I do!" he cried eagerly. "Isn't this the one you pointed out
to me the other day as belonging to the man who fought with you against
the Malays?"

"That's it," confirmed Tyke. "It's Manuel Gomez's box. Queer," he
went on reflectively, "that of all the chests there were in that loft
the only one we thought of looking in should burst open at our very
feet. If I was superstitious" (here Drew smothered a smile, for he
knew that Tyke was nothing if not superstitious), "I might think there
was some meaning in it. But of course," he added hastily, "we know
there isn't."

"Of course," acquiesced the younger man.

Tyke seemed rather disappointed at this ready assent.

"Well, anyway, now that it has opened right under our noses, so to
speak, we'll look into it. I guess we've got far enough ahead with our
moving to take the time."

Drew, who was burning with curiosity and impatience, agreed with him
heartily.

The chest had split close to the lock, so that it was an easy matter
after a minute or two of manipulation to throw the cover back.

A musty, discolored coat lay on top, and Tyke was just about to lift
this out when Winters stuck his head into the office.

"Some one to see you, sir," he announced.

Tyke gave a little grunt of impatience.

"Tell him I'm busy," he snapped. Then he caught himself up. "Wait a
minute," he said. "Did he tell you his name?"

"No, sir," returned Winters. "But I'll find out." In a