Tradition, and Mr. Penrose, had told the truth. Here without doubt was
Captain Duggle's grave, the grave he had caused to be dug for himself,
but which--be the reason what it might---his body had never occupied. Yet
the tomb was not entirely empty. The floor of it was strewn with gold, to
what depth Mary could not tell, but it was covered with golden
sovereigns; there must be thousands of them. They gleamed under the light
of the candles.
Mary turned, startled, inquiring, apprehensive eyes on Beaumaroy. He
pressed her arm gently, and whispered:
"I'll tell you presently. Come in. He'll notice us, I expect, in a
minute. Mind you curtsey when he sees you!" He led her in, pulling the
door to after him, and placed her and himself in front of the two small
armchairs opposite Mr. Saffron's throne.
Beaumaroy removed his hand from her arm, but she caught his wrist in one
of hers and stood there, holding on to him, breathing quickly, her eyes
now set on the figure on the throne.
The old man's lips had ceased to move; his eyes had closed; he lay back
in the deep seat, inert, looking half-dead, very pale and waxen in the
face.
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