“God forbid!” groaned the lad. Then to the builder, “Get your men. Tear down that wall. Quick. A man’s life is at stake, or more than life—his honor.”
The contractor hesitated, then remarked:
“Well, it won’t weaken the building, as I see; and we had decided on the work. It would have to come down anyway.”
He stepped to the street and summoned a waiting workman. They were skilled and labored rapidly, with little scattering of dust or mortar, though Margot would not move aside even from that, but gave them room for working only, standing with gaze riveted on that deepening shaft. A mere shell of single bricks, plastered and painted as the remaining wall, had hidden it; and its depth was little below the thick-beamed floor.
At last the workman stood up.
“I think I see the bottom, sir, and there seems to be stuff in it. Would you like to feel, young man?”
“No, no! I! It is I—to me the right—to find them!” cried Margot, flinging herself between, and downward on the floor.
SHE STOOPED AND FLUNG THEM OUT