He shot the light ahead of him as he went down, moving as in a dream,
but keeping true to type, cautious, careful, stealthy. At last he was
down. No one there! He turned the little flash into every nook and
cranny, not excepting the ledges above the cellar wall whereon the
floor beams rested. Once he came on a tin box long and flat and new
looking. It seemed strange to meet it here. There was no dust upon it.
He poked it down with his torch and it sprawled open at his feet.
Papers, long folded papers printed with writing in between, like bonds
or deeds or something. He stooped and waved the flash above them and
caught the name Shafton in one. It was an insurance paper, house and
furniture. He felt too stupid to quite understand, but it grew into his
consciousness that these were the things he was looking for. He
gathered them up, stuffing them carefully inside his blouse. They would
be safe there. Then he turned to go upstairs, but stumbled over a pile
of coal out in the floor and fell. It gave him a sick sensation to
fall. It almost seemed that he couldn't get up again, but now he had
found the papers he must. He, crawled to his knees, and felt around,
then turned his light on. This was strange! A heap of coal out in the
middle of the floor, almost a foot from the rest! A rusty shovel lay
beside it, a chisel and a big stone. Ah! The tapping! He got up
forgetting his pain and began to kick away the coal, turning the flash
light down. Yes, there was a crack in the cement, a loose piece. He
could almost lift it with his foot. He pried at it with the toe of his
shoe, and then lifted it with much effort out of the way. It was quite
a big piece, more than a foot in diameter! The ground was soft
underneath as if it had been recently worked over. He stooped and
plunged the fingers of his good hand in and felt around, laying the
light on the floor so it would shed a glare over the spot where he
worked. He could feel down several inches. There seemed to be something
soft like cloth or leather. He pulled at it and finally brought it up.
A leather bag girt about with a thong of leather. He picked the knot
and turned the flash in. It sent forth a million green lights. There
seemed also to be a rope of white glistening things that reminded him
of Saxy's tears. That brought a pang. Saxy would be crying! He must
remember that and do something about it. He must have been away a long
time and perhaps those men would be coming back. But it wouldn't do to
leave these things here. They were the Shafton jewels. What anybody
wanted of a lot of shiny little stones like that and a rope of tears!
But then if they did they did, and they were theirs and they oughtta
have 'em. This was the thing he had come to do. Get those jewels and
papers back! Make up as far as he could for what he had done! And he
must do it now quick before he got sick. He felt he was getting sick
and he mustn't think about it or he would turn into Aunt Saxon. That
was the queerest thing, back in his mind he felt this was Aunt
Saxon down here in the haunted cellar playing with green stones and
ropes of tears, and he must hurry quick before she found him and told
him he couldn't finish what he had to do.