had
once been a small knob.

"The closet, sure enough!" he cried, and his face took on a new
interest. "Now where is that door-knob?"

He hunted on the floor, but no knob came to view. But a bent nail was
handy, and this he inserted into the hole sideways, and pulled with all
his force. There was a slight creak, and a small door came open,
revealing a dark closet about a foot square and equally deep.

If the room was dirty the closet was more so, for a crack at the top had
let in both dirt and water, and at first he could see nothing but a
solid cake of dirt before him. Digging into this, he presently uncovered
a heavy tin box, painted black.

"Eureka! the box at last!" he cried, in a tone full of pleasure. "I am
the lucky one, after all!"

He brought the tin box forth and brushed it off. There was a little
padlock in front, and this was locked. Bringing a bunch of keys from his
pocket, he began to try them, one after another. At last he found one to
fit, and opened the box.

"The papers at last!" he murmured, and his eyes gleamed with
expectation. "Let me see what there is." He turned them over. "The
marriage certificate for one, and letters from his father about that
property. And other letters from her folks--all here, and just what I
wanted." He shoved the documents back into the box. "The fortune is
mine!"

Returning to the closet he cleaned it out thoroughly, to learn if it
contained anything more of value. But there was nothing more there, and
presently he blew out the candle, hid the tin box under his coat, and
returned to the deck.

Ben was rowing not far away and saw the doctor wave his hand.

"Is yo' ready, massah?" he called out.

"Yes, Ben."

The colored man said no more, but rowed inshore, and in the meantime the
doctor hurried down to meet him.

"Did you find any gold, massah?" asked the colored man, his white teeth
gleaming.

"Gold! Why, you foolish nigger, what chance is there of finding gold on
a wreck over ten years old? The best thing you can do is to break the
boat to pieces and take the wood ashore for fuel."

"But de ghosteses, massah! Besides, Mrs. Ruthven wouldn't let us touch
dat wrack nohow."

"On account of the boy, I suppose."

"Yes, massah."

"To tell the truth, my man, I have now as much interest in that ship as
has that boy or Mrs. Ruthven. It brings back an exciting passage in my
life. My visit to the wreck was made to satisfy me concerning several
important ques