He never remembered how he passed through the various streets leading to the apartment. He seemed to be treading on air. Now and then a sickening dread would come to him that, perhaps after all, the box contained nothing of value.
“Is that you, Larry?” his mother asked from her bedroom as he entered.
“Yes, mother,” he replied, in so strange a voice that Mrs. Dexter came out in a hurry to see what had happened. When she saw Larry, covered with dirt, his face pale, and holding in his arms the black box, she exclaimed:
“Are you hurt, Larry?”
“No,” he answered, much excited. “But I want to find out what’s in this box.”
It was tied with several stout cords, which Larry cut with his knife. Then he wrenched off the cover. As he did so he almost leaped back in astonishment.
There, in the box, was a blazing pile of jewels. Diamonds there were, nearly a score, some loose, some set in rings, and, most beautiful, a large necklace of the sparkling stones. Then there were rubies, sapphires, and other precious jewels.
“Larry! Where in the world did you get them?” gasped his mother.
“I found them!” cried Larry, hardly able to speak, so great was his emotion. “Some men buried them in a lot and I dug them up!”
“But whose are they?”