"The poor fellow must have been killed," said Aunt Nanny. "We advertised the trunk after the war, but no claimant ever came for it."
"And you've kept it all this time without looking into it? How could you? It would have been a perfect Blue Beard's chamber to me."
"Dear me, child! With all the trouble that's come to this house I've had other things to do than to go prying into strangers' trunks."
"Well, you've got to pry now," said Lilly with her little air of decision. "Who knows what treasures we may unearth? Can't we open it, aunty?"
"Yes, if Uncle David says so."
We could hardly wait for Uncle David to come home. We dragged the trunk down from the attic to the sitting-room: finally, we went to the gate to watch for Uncle David, and before he was well in the house had won his consent to open the trunk. In fact, I think he was not without a mild curiosity himself, though he said, "I feel uncommonly like a burglar," as he knelt down by the trunk and tried to force the lock.
"How do you know how a burglar feels?" said Lil saucily.
It was rather an exciting moment. A sea-breeze sprang up, and the blinds rattled loudly, as though some angry hand were trying to break them away. I started nervously and looked over my shoulder, half expecting to see the wrathful face of a slim, dark man. A cold air blew through the room. It almost seemed that viewless influences were interposing to save the stranger's treasures from profanation.
It was a spring lock, and it flew open with a snap. We peered eagerly into the trunk. Commonplace enough! Uncle David handed out one shirt after another.
"Bah!" said Lilly, "only a man's shirts!"