nothing.

And the operator of the machine, being in a hurry to catch the
ten-thirty train, went on with his picture-show and gave us President
McKinley and Mark Hanna sitting on the front steps of the home in
Canton, then followed the photograph of the party around the big table
signing the treaty of peace. As the crowd loosened and dissolved, Larmy
and the reporter stood silently waiting. Then, when they could get away
together, the reporter said:

"Come, let's go over to the shop and think about this thing."

When they opened the office door, the rank odour of the machinery came
to them with sickening force. They left the front door open and raised
the windows. The reporter began using a chisel on the top of a little
box with a Government frank on it, that had been placed upon the
music-box in the corner.

"We may as well see what David sent home," he grunted, as he jerked at
the stubborn nails, "anyway, I've got a theory."

Larmy was smoking hard. "Yes," he replied after a time; "we might as
well open it now as any time. The letter said all his things would be
found there. I guess he didn't have a great deal. Poor little devil,
there was no one much to get things for but you fellows and maybe me, if
he thought of us."

By this time the box was opened, and the reporter was scooping things
out upon the floor. There was an army uniform, that had something clinky
in the pockets, and wrapped in a magenta silk handkerchief was a carved
piece of ivory. In a camera plate-box was a rose, faded and crumbly, a
chip-diamond ring, a bangle bracelet, a woman's glove and a photograph.
These Larmy looked at as he smoked. They meant nothing to him, but the
reporter dived into the clothes for the clinky things. He came up with a
bunch of keys, and on it was the long brass lever which unlocked the
music in the box.

"Here," he said as he jingled the keys, "is the last link in our chain."
And he rose and went over to the box, uncovered it, and jabbed in the
lever with a nervous hand. There was a rolling and clinking inside.
Then, slowly, a harmony rose, and the tinkling that came from the box
resolved itself into a melody that filled the room. It was strong and
clear and powerful, and seemed to have a certain passion in it that may
have been struck like flint fire from the time and the place and the
spirit of the occasion. The two men stared dumbly as they listened. The
sound rose stronger and stronger; over and over again the