Satisfied at length that he was really alone, Isaac once more placed his candle on the table, and went to a dark corner beside the old wardrobe. There he touched a spring, cleverly hidden from careless observation, and a small piece of the deep wainscoting sprang out.
A hollow place in the wall was disclosed by this move. Isaac bent low, and carefully dragged up a heavy leathern bag. This bag he carried to the table, not without difficulty.
Now came Isaac's time of enjoyment. His shaking fingers untied the strings, and drew forth from the bag handfuls of gold. He piled sovereigns before him in a succession of little heaps, gazing at the same with admiring affection. He held them in his withered hands, and counted them over with ardent pleasure. His aged face brightened, and his lustreless eyes gleamed. For here was where Isaac's heart had found its home. If he loved nothing else in life, he loved gold.
Presently he put back the piles of sovereigns in the bag, and restored the bag to its hole behind the wainscoting, gloating over it to the last moment with greedy eyes, and sighing as it vanished from sight.
Isaac had not done yet. He went to another corner of the room, close beside the heavy four-post bed, and stooped down as if to touch another spring.
Something made him pause and stand up. What was that sound? Could it be only the crawling of a snail outside the window pane?
Isaac was suddenly seized with trembling dismay. For he saw that a corner of the window had been left uncovered by blind and curtain,—strangely unnoticed by himself. Possibly he might have pulled the curtain aside, unknowingly, as he passed. What if anyone had peeped in?
Isaac hastened to the window, and stared through the little bit of exposed pane. His limbs shook, and a cold perspiration broke out all over him. This window opened on a lonely corner of the back yard, but anybody might wander round from the road.
