"Open it, Robert. I decline to become excited."
"May I call Miss Barbara?"
"Certainly."
Tommy fairly flew downstairs for Bab, who returned with him on the run. Stevens showed her the box. Her eyes glowed.
"How is Miss Mollie?" asked the young man.
"I don't think there is very much the matter with her except the shock and the fright. She must have been unconscious down there for quite a time. Please open the box. I am dying of curiosity."
He broke open the box with the stove poker with which he had sounded the walls. All necks were craned to see what was in the box. To their wonderment, not unmixed with disappointment, Bob Stevens drew out a tarnished gold watch, on the back of which had been cut the letters "T. W. P." It was of English make and very old.
Mr. Presby regarded it solemnly.
"That is my ancestor's watch. It can mean but one thing, finding it as we have. He left such of his worldly possessions as he could—this watch. And to think we have dug up half of the estate for a treasure that did not exist! It was his silent message to us that this was all he had to leave in case he did not return." Mr. Presby's voice held a note of keen disappointment. Even up to now he had not fully lost hope that by some fortunate circumstance the treasure might yet be found.
"He may have returned and taken the rest of it," reflected Bob. "But if that were so, why should he have gone to all the pains of leading us to believe there was more?"