“My dear Miss Truman,” said Mr. Tunstall, “I admit nothing. In fact, I deny most emphatically and unequivocally that I got the treasure, or that I went to the orchard to get it. I can wait for the treasure until it comes to me in a legal manner. I’m no such fool as to give you people a case against me.”
“Then what was it you got?” I persisted. “I saw you had a package of some sort under your arm.”
He hesitated a moment, looking at me closely.
“Promise me one thing. If I tell you, you will keep the secret.”
“I—I can’t promise that,” I stammered.
“All right,” he retorted easily; “then I won’t tell,” and he thrust his hands deep into his pockets and leaned back in his chair.
“I won’t tell,” I said, at last, “if it wasn’t the treasure.”
He sat still for a moment, looking at me, as though still undecided.
“I believe I can trust you,” he said, and arose and brushed aside a curtain at the side of the room. I saw that it concealed a little alcove in which was a small table. He picked up something from the table, and came back to me.
“This is what I got out of the tree last night,” he said, and placed a little metal case on the table before me.