"Where is the key?" asked Banks, shivering at Timothy's words and puffing nervously at a freshly lit cigar.
Timothy chuckled at the big man's discomfort and borrowed a strong knife from Jim Harley. He went to a mahogany secretary which stood at the head of the bed, opened the top drawer and applied the blade of the knife to the front of a secret compartment within the drawer. He turned in a moment and tossed a bunch of keys to Mr. Banks. Nash took the keys from the New Yorker's hands and knelt down before the chest. Jim Harley held the candle. The chest had three locks and each of the three called for a separate key. At last the heavy lid was freed and lifted. The top of the trunk was full of clothing. They lifted out a tray and found more clothing. They lifted out another tray and found, in the bottom of the chest, books, nautical instruments, a chart or two, a small bag of English gold, a brace of revolvers and a small iron dispatch-box. In the dispatch-box they found many documentary proofs of the old man's claim to the style and title of Captain John Edward Jackson. They found his ship-master's certificate, an appointment to the command of a gun-boat in the Brazilian navy, title deeds to several mining properties in Brazil, a yellow clipping from a St. John newspaper recording the marriage of Captain Thomas Harley, and another reporting and commenting upon Harley's sudden and deplorable death at the hands of an unknown assassin.
"This little snake was the murderer. There can be no doubt about it," said Jim Harley.
"He is answering for it now," said Mr. Banks, quietly.
"I am afraid we must turn all these things over to the Crown," said Nash. "I don't know anything about the law; but I imagine it is the business of the Crown to take care of these things and look for heirs."
Mr. Banks nodded.
"I think the lawyers will find it a very pretty thing," he remarked. "As for Samson's Mill Settlement, it will become known to the world."
"But we'll burn these newspaper clippings," said Jim Harley, snatching them up and crushing them in his hand. "The murderer is dead and the curse is dead. We'll let the old story die, too."
"I wonder if the title-deeds are straight," murmured Nash. "Can the Crown collect, do you think? I'll make out my bill for professional services, anyway."
"Heaven only knows what the lawyers will make of it," said Banks.