As it fell back into their hands two more gold coins
tumbled to the floor.
"Just take off this narrow plank, Roger and let me squint in there.
Stand back, please, all of you, and let us have as much light as we
can."
"I have a flashlight," said Mr. Schuler.
"Just the ticket. Now, then--," and Mr. Emerson kneeled down, peering
into the space that was disclosed when the boards fell away. "I see
something; I certainly see something," he cried as the electricity
searched into the darkness. He thrust in his arm but the something was
too far off.
"Take my crutch," suggested Mr. Schuler.
Mr. Emerson took it and tugged away with the top.
"It's coming, it's coming," his muffled cry rose from the depths.
Another tug and a blackened leather pouch, slashed with a jagged tear
from which gold pieces were pouring, tumbled into the room.
"Pick it all up and put it on the table, Roger, while Mr. Schuler and I
decide how it happened," ordered Mr. Emerson.
The investigation seemed to prove that there probably had been a crack
in the bricks at the back of the mantel at the time when Algernon
Merriam, Miss Gertrude's ancestor, had thrust the bag into the mantel
cupboard.
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