When the boys had at length gathered around the table in the old-fashioned kitchen of the Warren cottage and had drawn the window-shades, they proceeded to examine the box. It was an ordinary shallow tin box, such as a business man might keep odds and ends of papers and cash in. It was fastened with a small padlock. After trying to unlock this with every key they could find in the house, and without success, young Joe produced a file, and with this filed through the small staple in the box.
When the cover was thrown back there was disclosed a layer of fine cotton, like jewellers’ cotton, and when this was lifted out there came from the box a myriad of tiny flashes of light. The inside of the box was fairly ablaze. Countless little flashes of light danced and twinkled there.
“Hooray!” cried George Warren. “We have the stolen jewels, and no mistake. Just see how these sparkle.” And he lifted up a necklace of diamonds, that blazed in the light of the lamp like a ring of fire. They sparkled and gleamed like little stars, as the boys passed them from hand to hand.
“Mercy on us!” cried a pleasant voice, all of a sudden; and Mrs. Warren, who had been awakened by the sound of their voices and had hastily dressed, entered the kitchen. “Is this den the cave of the forty thieves?” she asked, smiling, and then, as she caught sight of the glittering gems, she exclaimed, anxiously: “Why, boys, what on earth does all this mean?”
“It means, mother,” answered George, “that Henry Burns has done what the detectives have been trying to do ever since the robbery at Benton. Here are the stolen diamonds, and Henry will take them to town to-morrow and claim the reward.”
“Only on one condition,” interrupted Henry Burns. “I don’t stir one step to secure the reward until it is agreed that it shall be evenly divided between us all. You fellows have just as much claim upon it as I, and, unless every one of you solemnly swears to take his share, I shall never take one cent of it.”
And every one of them knew that he meant exactly what he said.
Early next morning Henry Burns and George Warren stood upon the wharf, awaiting the arrival of the boat for Mayville. The boat connected there with a train that would arrive in Benton during the forenoon. Henry Burns carried in one hand a small satchel.
“I had hard work to persuade old Witham to let me go,” said Henry Burns. “He didn’t see what I wanted to go poking off to Benton for. Said I better stay here and save my money. As it is, I’ve got to go and call on an aged aunt of Mrs. Carlin and spend the night there. Well, I guess I can manage to amuse myself, even there. I’m likely to see a few other people before I get back, eh, George?”
“I know one man who won’t turn you out-of-doors, when you produce those diamonds,” answered George.