, he must still retain some
innocence and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies with his
mouth, he was not a machine to utter perfect speech! At the same time I
was beginning to outgrow the painful impressions of my interview; my
spirits were beginning to revive; and at the jolly, empty looks of Mr.
Rowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box, St. Ives became
himself again.

"Now, Rowley, don't be in a hurry," said I. "This is a momentous
juncture. Man and boy, you have been in my service about three hours.
You must already have observed that I am a gentleman of a somewhat
morose disposition, and there is nothing that I more dislike than the
smallest appearance of familiarity. Mr. Pole or Mr. Powl, probably in
the spirit of prophecy, warned you against this danger."

"Yes, Mr. Anne," said Rowley blankly.

"Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases in which I am willing
to depart from my principles. My uncle has given me a box--what you
would call a Christmas box. I don't know what's in it, and no more do
you: perhaps I'm an April fool, or perhaps I am already enormously
wealthy; there might be five hundred pounds in this apparently harmless
receptacle!"

"Lord, Mr. Anne!" cried Rowley.

"Now, Rowley, hold up your right hand and repeat the words of the oath
after me," said I, laying the despatch-box on the table. "Strike me blue
if I ever disclose to Mr. Powl, or Mr. Powl's Viscount, or anything that
is Mr. Powl's, not to mention Mr. Dawson and the doctor, the treasures
of the following despatch-box; and strike me sky-blue scarlet if I do
not continually maintain, uphold, love, honour, and obey, serve, and
follow to the four corners of the earth and the waters that are under
the earth, the hereinafter before-mentioned (only that I find I have
neglected to mention him) Viscount Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves,
commonly known as Mr. Rowley's Viscount. So be it. Amen."

He took the oath with the same exaggerated seriousness as I gave it to
him.

"Now," said I. "Here is the key for you; I will hold the lid with both
hands in the meanwhile." He turned the key. "Bring up all the candles in
the room, and range them alongside. What is it to be? A live gorgon, a
Jack-in-the-box, or a spring that fires a pistol? On your knees, sir,
before the prodigy!"

So saying, I turned the despatch-box upside down upon the table. At
sight of the heap of bank paper and gold that lay in front of us between
the cand