“This,” he said, patting the package beside him, “will make the old Don rich.”
“The old Don! It’s yours!” Kirk stared.
“It’s his by direct inheritance.”
“How do you know that? Is there a monogram or a coat of arms on the box?”
“No.”
“Then you will never be sure.” The younger boy’s tone was earnest, entreating. “Don’t spoil the old Don by making him rich.”
“It’s not for us to decide what a man’s rightful possessions will do for him,” said Pant thoughtfully. “The only question for us to ask is, ‘Are they his?’”
“Perhaps,” he said after a moment’s silence, “your Uncle can help us out.”
“I am sure he can,” said Kirk.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the chicle magnate when, having lifted the lid of the ancient silver box, his eyes fell upon the treasure of pearls within. Instinctively, he stepped back and locked the door to his office.