All they saw was an unvarnished piece of pine board, apparently the back of the desk.
“Looks like my grandfather’s,” said Ben. “Yes, there’s a couple of holes.” And putting his forefinger and thumb into two indentations in the wood at the back, he wriggled his hand around and drew out a small drawer.
“Empty!” he muttered, disappointed, holding the drawer so that the others could see.
Again he put his hand into the opening and drew out a second drawer that had been under the first one. This also was empty.
“One more chance.” He pulled out the bottom drawer. In this there was something. Holding it upside down, a small roll of paper fell out on the lid of the desk.
“A piece of parchment,” said Tuckerman, picking up the roll. He opened it out, holding it taut in his two hands.
All eyes focussed on the sheet, on which were scrawled, in a faint purplish ink, these lines:
I took the box
cliff where was
meaning to es