"I'll take the responsibility of opening it, in Mrs.Moneylaws' interest, anyway.

Lift it on to that table, and let's see if one of these keys'll fit the lock." There was no difficulty about finding the key--there were but a few on the bunch, and he hit on the right one straightaway, and we all crowded round him as he threw back the heavy lid.

There was a curious aromatic smell came from within, a sort of mingling of cedar and camphor and spices--a smell that made you think of foreign parts and queer, far-off places.

And it was indeed a strange collection of things and objects that Mr.Lindsey took out of the chest and set down on the table.

There was an old cigar-box, tied about with twine, full to the brim with money--over two thousand pounds in bank-notes and gold, as we found on counting it up later on,--and there were others filled with cigars, and yet others in which the man had packed all manner of curiosities such as three of us at any rate had never seen in our lives before.