"Stand
by!" yelled the mate, and with a heave he threw open the massive top of
the box. As it swung up we all three sprang back, I with my pistol
levelled, and the carpenter with the hammer above his head. Then, as
nothing happened, we each took a step forward and peeped in. The box
was empty.
Not quite empty either, for in one corner was lying an old yellow
candle-stick, elaborately engraved, which appeared to be as old as the
box itself. Its rich yellow tone and artistic shape suggested that it
was an object of value. For the rest there was nothing more weighty or
valuable than dust in the old striped treasure-chest.
"Well, I'm blessed!" cried Allardyce, staring blankly into it.
"Where does the weight come in, then?"
"Look at the thickness of the sides, and look at the lid. Why, it's
five inches through. And see that great metal spring across it."
"That's for holding the lid up," said the mate. "You see, it won't lean
back. What's that German printing on the inside?"
"It means that it was made by Johann Rothstein of Augsburg, in 1606."
"And a solid bit of work, too. But it doesn't throw much light on what
has passed, does it, Captain Barclay? That candlestick looks like gold.
We shall have something for our trouble after all."
He leant forward to grasp it, and from that moment I have never doubted
as to the reality of inspiration, for on the instant I caught him by the
collar and pulled him straight again.
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