“The thing that puzzles me,” Mr. Chester was saying, “is that Mrs. Nelson made no stipulation in the will about Tunstall finding this treasure. If you fail to find it, the property goes to him; but there is no penalty if he fails to find it. And suppose both of you fail to find it? What then?”
“It’s a sort of game of ‘we lose,’ whatever happens,” broke in Tom.
“The only explanation is,” added Mr. Chester, “that Mrs. Nelson took it for granted that Tunstall would have no difficulty in finding the treasure.”
“With the aid of his Hindu gods, perhaps,” Mrs. Chester suggested.
“What is the ‘treasure,’ anyway, Mr. Chester?” mother queried in a kind of desperation. “The word makes one think of chests of gold and that sort of thing, but, I take it, that’s not what we’re to look for.”
“Oh, no. The will says the ‘treasure’—I use the word because it is used in the key—consists of ‘stocks, bonds, and other securities.’ Mrs. Nelson never took me into her confidence, so I can’t even guess at the amount.”
“And what shape will they be in? What must we look for?”
“I think you will find them in a small steel box such as is usually used for holding securities of that kind. Tom, run up and bring down that box off my desk. Of course I may be mistaken,” he added, as Tom reappeared carrying a little black metal box, “but I believe that some such box as this is the object of your search.”
We all stared at it for a moment, as though this were the veritable box.
“Then if we don’t find it,” asked mother, at last, “and this Mr. Tunstall doesn’t find it, as you suggested might possibly happen, the ‘treasure’ will be lost?”