ere united in
the center by a Tudor rose. In an instant there
flashed across my mind the old saying which Jack
had quoted:

He who plucks a rose at Yule
Will bring back luck to Dacrepool.

What impulse urged me I cannot say, but compelled
by some seemingly irresistible suggestion I seized
the sculptured rose and wrenched at it with all my
strength. There was a dull thud, followed by a
harsh grinding noise, and the whole of the paneling
slid slowly back, revealing a cavity behind, where,
half hidden by the accumulations of dust and
cobwebs, I could catch a sight of silver tankards
and masses of plate enough to make the mouth of a
collector water with envy. Still scarcely certain
whether I was sleeping or waking, I put in my hand
and drew out a bag filled with something heavy, and
even as I did so the rotten mildewed canvas broke
with the strain, and a stream of golden coins
descended with a clatter upon the floor.

"Like a maniac I rushed to my door and hallooed
lustily for Jack, who, roused by my shouts, came
hurrying up in scanty attire, with a revolver in
one hand and a poker in the other.

"'What is it, old man, thieves or bailiffs? Just
hold 'em till I come, can't you?'

"'It's neither,' I replied, as I hauled him in with
triumph, 'but I believe I have had a visit from
your esteemed ancestor, and, as a Christmas gift,
allow me to introduce you to the long-lost family
treasure.'

"There was no mistake about it--it was real enough,
and, as the Christmas bells came chiming through
the frosty air, we turned out bags of gold, piles
of silver and priceless jewels warranted to redeem
Dacrepool Grange twice over if necessary, and
sending Jack into a very ecstasy of joy.

"'By Jove, old chap,' he exclaimed, 'I owe it all
to you. Here I've slept in this room for years, and
never paid any heed to the raps and taps, though
I've heard them often enough, while the treasure
was under my very nose, only waiting to be
discovered. Then you come along with your
ghost-seeing eyes, and the spirit, if spirit it
was,