"
"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
beside the lock."
"Then open it before I expire of pure unsatisfied curiosity," Ricky
begged. "Go on, Rupert. Hurry."
"Oh," she said a moment later, "it's full of nothing but a lot of
books."
"What did you expect," Val asked her, "a skeleton? Do you know, I think
that Rick's ghost, or whatever influence presides over this house, has a
sense of humor. You find a room, or a trunk, or something which makes
you feel that you are on the verge of getting what you want, and then it
all fades into just nothing again.
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