He seized Ned by one arm, and pulled him away and around the house and down the bulkhead steps, George loping after them. In the cellar stood Bob, disreputable in his old clothes and adorned with dust and cobwebs, a lighted lantern in one hand.
“Has he told you?” he cried, as the others piled down the stairs.
“Told me? He hasn’t told anything,” gasped Ned, shaking himself free at last. “What is it?”
Bob laughed loudly and gleefully. “Then come on!” he shouted. He dashed into the preserve closet, Ned, George, and Laurie at his heels, passed from sight for an instant, and was seen again crawling through a hole in the wall. Ned and George showered questions as they pattered along the tunnel, but all they received in reply was insane laughter and a meaningless, breathless jumble of words. And then they were at the farther portal, and Bob led the way through, and they followed.
They found themselves in a small cellar-like compartment scarcely four paces square. It was windowless, although, close to the raftered ceiling in the rear wall, two oblongs of brick set in the stone showed where at some time small windows had been. The floor was paved with flat stones. In one corner, the only objects there, were a small iron chest, its lid swung open and back, and a crowbar. The newcomers stared in amazement, the truth slowly dawning on them. It was Laurie who spoke first.
“Go and look!” he said excitedly.
Ned and George obeyed. Within the chest lay four fat, heavy brownish envelopes, bound and tied with pink tape.
“Take one out and open it,” said Bob over Ned’s shoulder.
Ned picked up one. Across one end was written in scrawly characters the inscription “Gov’t.”
“‘Government,’” explained Laurie, softly. “It’s full of United States bonds. Nearly a dozen of them. Have a look.”