Her hands shaking with excitement, Penny lifted the flap and pulled out a wad of musty-smelling, yellowed stock certificates.
“Those ancient documents,” Phil told her quietly, “don’t look like much. But, according to Taggart’s confession, when we turn them in we’ll collect about $50,000—their cash value plus back dividends and interest.”
For a moment no one spoke. Then Jimmy yelled: “WHOOPEE! The hidden treasure is found at last. And boy oh boy, will I ever get the finest sailboat that was ever launched!”
“I can’t believe it,” Marjorie said in an awed voice. “Why, I—I’m an heiress!”
“I can believe it,” Peter said, pretending to be mournful. “Penny will never marry poor penniless me now.”
“Of course not,” Penny said with a laugh. “And now Phil doesn’t have to marry Adra for her money either.”
Everyone laughed then, almost hysterically. They were all tired and over-stimulated. Dawn was pinking the sky in the east.
“If you ask me,” Jimmy said, stretching and yawning, “I’d say we all ought to catch a little shut-eye. I for one won’t believe any part of Phil’s yarn until I hear it all over again in broad daylight.”
But the next morning, after consulting the older men who were staying at the Lodge, the Allens learned that the old stock certificates were worth even more than Taggart had estimated.