hour he sprang to his feet with a smothered oath, and cutting a slit
in the cover of the chest with his penknife, tore it off and examined
the top and sides as carefully as his strained eyes and trembling
hands would allow. He was ashamed of his nervousness, but he was
powerless to overcome it. His examination met with no better success,
and he suddenly sprang across the room and snatched the battle-axe
from the wall. He walked quickly back to the chest. For a moment he
hesitated, the thing was so beautiful! But only for a moment. The
overmastering desire to feel those papers in his hands had driven out
all regard for art. He lifted the axe on high and brought it down on
the top of the chest with a blow which made the little room echo. He
was a powerful man, and the axe was imbedded to its haft. He worked it
out of the tough wood and planted another blow, which widened the rift
and made the stout old chest creak like a falling tree. The mutilated
wood acted upon Dartmouth like the smell of blood upon a wolf: the
spirit of destruction leaped up and blazed within him, a devouring
flame, and the blows fell thick and fast. He felt a fierce delight
in the havoc he was making, in the rare and exquisite beauty he was
ruining beyond hope of redemption. He leaned down, and swinging the
axe outward, sent it straight through the arcades and pillars, the
mosques and images, shattering them to bits. Then he raised the axe
again and brought it down on the seam which joined the back to the
top. The blow made but little impression, but a succession of blows
produced a wide gap. Harold inserted the axe in the rift, and kneeling
on the chest, attempted to force the back wall outward. For a time it
resisted his efforts, then it suddenly gave way, and Dartmouth dropped
the axe with a cry. From a shelf below the roof a package had sprung
outward with the shock, and a small object had fallen with a clatter
on the prostrate wall. Dartmouth picked it up in one hand and the
papers in the other, his fingers closing over the latter with a joy
which thrilled him from head to foot. It was a joy so great that it
filled him with a profound peace; the excitement of the past hour
suddenly left him. He went over to his desk and sat down before it.
With the papers still held firmly in his hand, he opened the locket.
There were two pictures within, and as he held them up to the light he
was vaguely conscious that he should feel a shock of surprise; but he