as placed on a chair just in
front of it; and then Grace, with rather a reproachful glance at the
figure of the Indian priest, twisted round the little gold bar, and
opened the two ebony doors.

"There!" cried Grace, stooping down, "I can just see the knob; but you
can't get low enough. You can feel it, though, if you put your hand into
this corner."

Guided by the direction in which her finger pointed, Mr. Goodman thrust
his hand right back into the darkest corner of the cabinet; and
presently he said, "Yes, I can certainly feel something hard and round
like a little button. But I can't move it."

As he spoke he pulled at the little knob with a force that shook the
cabinet in its place.

"Push it, father!" cried Grace eagerly. "That's what I did in my dream."

Mr. Goodman obeyed, and instantly there was a low musical "twang," like
that caused by the striking of a Jew's harp, or the quick vibration of a
piece of watch-spring; a sharp click followed, and something was heard
to fall on to the ebony floor of the cabinet.

Mrs. Goodman held the light closer, and in a moment her husband said,
"Here is a little secret door hinged down to the bottom of the cabinet.
The knob must have been fixed to a spring, and in pressing it I have
released the catch of the door, which has fallen flat, leaving a small
square opening."

"Is there anything inside?" asked Grace, in a hurried, excited whisper.

"Let me see," said her father, thrusting in his hand again. "Ah, yes! A
little drawer!"

A moment later he stood upright, holding a tiny drawer of sweet-smelling
sandal-wood in his hand.

"Come along to the table," he said; "we will soon see if there is
anything nice inside."

Although it was evident that he was trying to speak carelessly, there
was a strange eagerness in his manner; and as Mrs. Goodman set the lamp
on the table, the light revealed a spot of bright colour on each of her
pale cheeks; and as for Grace, she was in raptures.

"I know--I _know_ it's something beautiful," she cried; "and I believe
my priest is a magic priest after all."

They all three gathered round the light, and Mr. Goodman laid the little
secret drawer on the table.

The drawer seemed to be quite full, but its contents were completely
covered by a neatly-folded piece of Indian silk. This was quickly
removed; and under it there lay an ivory box of delicate workmanship. It
fitted closely into the drawer, and Mr. Goodman lifted it out with gre