He pointed to the metal shield in the centre of the lid. "Oh," she cried rapturously, "another just like it! But you," she demanded, after a moment's reflection, "who are you?"
"I am Eustace Vernon," he replied smiling, "and nothing more."
"And this?" pointing to the crest on the box.
"That was Stephen Vernon, I suppose; my eighth great-grandfather, and third Baron Carston."
Letty had become quiet again—her excitement suddenly gone: "Oh, I thought you were just an artist, and quite poor!" she almost whispered.
"Dear one," he said, taking her hand, "I am nothing more. When my ancestor lost his life at Naseby his young children were left poor and almost friendless. They were brought up by the peasants as themselves, and became yeoman. The title was dropped, and has never been used since; as for this box—why, if you are afraid of it, let us bury it unopened!"
"No, Eustace," she replied, with a happy smile, "let us open it first, and then bury it if necessary." •••••••••• Just as Elgood and the captain of the Nymph were leaving the quay, some few hours later, they suddenly encountered Eustace Vernon, who was carrying a hand bag, and followed by a porter groaning under the weight of an exceedingly well corded, brown-paper package. Elgood had quite recovered his spirits, and was looking forward with certainty to the discovery of the treasure towards which he had been so fatefully guided. He could afford to be disinterested now that the artist was obviously leaving the place, and in a burst of generous forgiveness he shook him by the hand and wished him a pleasant journey. It was not until the following morning, just as he was about to commence active digging
