Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no doubt in any of them—the Luck of Lorne had returned.
"We found it!" breathed Ricky.
"Put it in its place," Val ordered.
Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking from Ricky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche their pirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, the metal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history—their Luck!
"Everything will come right again," Val repeated as Ricky came back to him. "You'll see. Everything—will—be—all—right."
His eyes closed in spite of his efforts. He was back in the darkness where he could only feel the warmth of Ricky's hands clasped about his.