g the
thrill that would be mine when the spade would ring on the ironbound
chest; when, with a blow of the axe, I would expose to view the hidden
jewels, the pieces of eight, coated with verdigris, the string of
pearls, the chains of yellow gold. Edgar had said a million dollars.
That must mean there would be diamonds, many diamonds. I would hold them
in my hands, watch them, at the sudden sunshine, blink their eyes and
burst into tiny, burning fires. In imagination I would replace them in
the setting, from which, years before, they had been stolen. I would try
to guess whence they came from a jewelled chalice in some dim cathedral,
from the breast of a great lady, from the hilt of an admiral's sword.

After another hour I lifted my aching shoulders and, wiping the sweat
from my eyes, looked over the edge of the hole. Rupert, with his back
to the sand-hill, was asleep. Edgar with one hand was waving away the
mosquitoes and in the other was holding one of the magazines he had
bought on the way down. I could even see the page upon which his
eyes were riveted. It was an advertisement for breakfast food. In my
indignation the spade slipped through my cramped and perspiring fingers,
and as it struck the bottom of the pit, something--a band of iron, a
steel lock, an iron ring--gave forth a muffled sound. My heart stopped
beating as suddenly as though Mr. Corbett had hit it with his closed
fist. My blood turned to melted ice. I drove the spade down as fiercely
as though it was a dagger. It sank into rotten wood. I had made no
sound; for I could hardly breathe. But the slight noise of the blow had
reached Edgar. I heard the springs of the hack creak as he vaulted from
it, and the next moment he was towering above me, peering down into the
pit. His eyes were wide with excitement, greed, and fear. In his hands
he clutched the two suit-cases. Like a lion defending his cubs he glared
at me.

"Get out!" he shouted.

"Like hell!" I said.

"Get out!" he roared. "I'll do the rest. That's mine, not yours! GET
OUT!"

With a swift kick I brushed away the sand. I found I was standing on a
squat wooden box, bound with bands of rusty iron. I had only to stoop to
touch it. It was so rotten that I could have torn it apart with my bare
hands. Edgar was dancing on the edge of the pit, incidentally kicking
sand into my mouth and nostrils.

"You PROMISED me!" he roared. "You PROMISED to obey me!"

"You ass!" I shouted. "Haven't I done all