hing open. Some of
the rods we broke, others we bent back. And at first we only stared in
blank surprise.

It did not look like gold--the contents of the chest. Nor was it a
string of precious jewels. It seemed merely a bent, shapeless object of
some dark-colored metal, and a few dull stones, some of which were as
large as hickory nuts, loose in the bottom. Certain words were said as
we looked down, certain questions asked--but all of them were dim and
lost in a great, wondering preoccupation that dropped over me.

Nopp reached a big hand, took one of the stones, and rubbed it on his
trouser leg. Looking at it, he rubbed it again with added vigor. Then he
stared at it in sudden, fascinated _wonder_.

"Good Heavens!" he suddenly exclaimed in tremendous excitement. "Do you
know what this is?"

We turned to him, staring blankly. "What is it?" Edith asked. Her voice
was quiet; only the bright sparkle in her eyes revealed how excited she
really was.

"It's an emerald. That's what it is. One of the finest in this country.
It's worth a whole chest of gold. Killdare, the story was that it was a
_Portuguese_ ship--bound out from Rio?"

"Yes----"

"And the chest was the property of some noble family, Portuguese princes
at the time the court of Portugal was located in Rio de Janeiro?"

"Something like that----"

"The property of a noble family! Edith, it was unquestionably the
property of the ruling house itself. Wait just a minute."

He took the shapeless thing of metal, rubbed it until a little of the
tarnish was gone, revealing yellow gold beneath, and slowly bent it in
his hands. It took a circular shape. Then he showed us little sockets,
set at various points, that had been the settings for the jewels. We saw
the truth at once.

"A crown!" Edith said.

"Unquestionably the famous crown that the Portuguese king wore at his
Brazilian court--one of the richest courts in history. The jewels came
from Brazil, from Peruvian temples--Heaven knows where. And for Heaven's
sake, Edith, send it away and get it changed into securities. It's
death--that's all it is. It's the kind of thing that drives men insane."

We took the yellow thing, and in a wonderful, elated mood, we set it on
her own golden curls. But she removed it quickly. We were all instantly
sobered as she put it into my hands.

"It's bad luck to wear it," she said. "It makes me creep to think what
wickedness it has caused--clear through the centuries. I'm a