an? There
cannot be any more than those Aunt Faith had, surely."

"Can't there?" said Mr. Montfort, with a provoking smile. "Doubtless you
know best, my dear." And not another word would he say on the subject;
but he told Margaret where to find the iron cupboard, and she ran off in
such a flutter that Peggy would hardly have known her model and mentor.
Old silver was one of Margaret's weak points; indeed, she had a strong
feeling about heirlooms of every kind, and treasured carefully every
scrap of paper even that had any association with past times.

Seeing Hugh in the library, she called to him. "Hugh! come with me and
see the Treasure Chamber of the Montforts. Don't you want to see the
ancestral silver?"

"Of course I do!" said Hugh, laying down his book and coming to join
her. "Ancestral silver? My mother went to housekeeping with six
teaspoons and a butter-knife, and thought herself rich. Uncle John
wanted to send a trunkful of family silver, I have been told, but the
Pater refused to be bothered with it. Poor Mother would have been glad
enough of it, I fancy, but in those days he was masterful, and bent on
roughing it, and would not hear of anything approaching luxury, or even
convenience. Where is this wonderful treasury?"

"Come, and you shall see. Uncle John has told me how to find it. Come
through this door; here we are in his own study, you see. Now--let me
see! I will light this lamp--for the cupboard is dark--while you look
and find Inigo Jones."

"Inigo Jones?"

"Yes. A tall blue morocco quarto, about the middle of the fourth shelf
of the bookcase behind Uncle John's desk. Ah! I see him!"

Springing forward, Margaret drew the stately volume from its place.
"Look!" she cried. "A keyhole. Hugh, isn't this exactly like the
'Mysteries of Udolpho?' 'Inigo Jones' is his joke, you see, or
somebody's joke. Do you mind if I turn the key, Hugh?"

"Turn away!" said Hugh, much amused at the excitement of his staid
little cousin.

With a trembling hand Margaret turned the key, and gave a pull, as she
had been told. A section of the bookcase, with its load of books, swung
slowly forward, revealing a dark opening. Margaret stepped in, and Hugh
followed, holding the lamp aloft.

"Well, upon my word!" he said. "I never heard of anything like this, out
of the 'Arabian Nights.'"

Margaret was looking about her, too much absorbed for words. The Iron
Cupboard was a recess some ten feet deep and seven or eight wid