"Evidently last night's big shaking widened the crack and let the bag fall down. The ragged edge of a broken brick tore the leather and the two coins that Vladimir and Elisabeth found slipped out and fell just inside the plank covering of the chimney and below it out on to the floor."
"So did the two that fell out when we were working," added Roger.
"Let's open it and count the money. This may be some other bag," suggested Helen, who had brought back no farther information from the Russian. "If it's Algernon's it ought to have--how many guineas was it?"
"Five hundred and seventy-three, and a ring and a miniature," continued Ethel Brown who had heard his story.
"In a box," concluded Ethel Blue. "I can't wait for Roger to undo it!"
They gathered around the table on which Roger had placed the stained bag, the gold coins gleaming through a gash in its side. Moya cleaned the outside as well as she could with a damp cloth.
"See, here are some crumbs of sealing-wax still clinging to the cord," and Grandfather Emerson cut the string that still tied the mouth. Before their amazed eyes there rolled first a small box and then guineas as bright as when they were tied up in their prison.
"We shan't have to count the guineas; if the ring and the miniature are in the box that will prove that it's Algernon's bag," said Helen.
"Here, young woman; hands off," cried her grandfather as Helen was preparing to open the box. "Algernon and Patience were no direct ancestors of yours. Miss Merriam is the suitable person to perform this ceremony."
Helen, smiling, pushed the basket toward Miss Gertrude who slipped off the string with trembling fingers.