For it stood to reason, didn't it, that Maria could not have described it with such wonderful accuracy and such careful detail unless she had seen it recently--the day before, perhaps, or that very day, or that very hour, that very HOUR?
"Look out for yourself," he whispered, hoarsely, to his wife.

"Look out for yourself, my girl.

I'll hunt for it, and hunt for it, and hunt for it, and some day I'll find it--I will, you'll see--I'll find it, I'll find it; and if I don't, I'll find a way that'll make you tell me where it is.

I'll make you speak--believe me, I will, I will, my girl--trust me for that." And at night Maria would sometimes wake to find Zerkow gone from the bed, and would see him burrowing into some corner by the light of his dark-lantern and would hear him mumbling to himself: "There were more'n a hundred pieces, and every one of 'em gold--when the leather trunk was opened it fair dazzled your eyes--why, just that punchbowl was worth a fortune, I guess; solid, solid, heavy, rich, pure gold, nothun but gold, gold, heaps and heaps of it--what a glory! I'll find it yet, I'll find it.

It's here somewheres, hid somewheres in this house." At length his continued ill success began to exasperate him.