o a faster job," he remarked, "if you didn't all breathe down
the back of my neck." They retreated two inches or so and waited
impatiently. With a satisfied grunt he dropped his knife and pulled the
lid up.

"Why, there's nothing in it!" Ricky's cry of disappointment was almost a
wail.

"Nothing but that old torn lining." Val was as disgusted as she.

Rupert closed it again. "I'll rub this up some and put in another
lining. This is too good a piece to hide away up here," and he put it
carefully aside at the end of the hall.

Their investigations yielded nothing more except great quantities of
dust, a mummified rat which even Satan refused to sniff at, and a large
collection of spider webs. Having swept out the room, they went to wash
their hands before unpacking the well-wrapped boxes.

When their swathing canvas and sacking was thrown aside, the boxes stood
revealed as stout chests banded with iron. Charity paused before one.
"This is a marriage chest, late seventeenth century, I would judge. Look
there, under that carved leaf--isn't that a date?"

"Sixteen hundred ninety-three," Rupert deciphered. "That crest above it
looks familiar. I know, it belonged to that French lady who married our
pirate ancestor."

"The first Lady Richanda!" Ricky touched the chest lovingly. "Then this
is mine, Rupert. Can't it be mine?" she coaxed.

"Of course. But it's locked, and as we don't have any keys which would
fit the lock, you'll have to wait until we can get a locksmith out to
work on it before you will know what's inside."

"I don't care. No," she corrected herself, "that's wrong; I do care. But
anyway its mine!" She caressed the stiff carving with her fingers.

"What's this one?" Val turned to the second box. It, too, was fashioned
of wood, but it was plain where the other was carved, and the iron bands
across it were pitted with rust.

"A sea chest, I would say." Rupert touched the top gingerly. "By the
feel, it's locked too. And I don't care to play around with it. The men
who made things like these were too fond of having little poisoned fangs
run into your hand when you tried to force the chest without knowing the
trick. We'll have to leave this for an expert, too."

"What about the third?"

Charity laughed. "After your two treasures I'm afraid that this will be
a disappointment." She indicated a small humpbacked trunk covered with
moth-eaten horsehair. "No romance here. But the key is tied to the clasp
besid