THE SHERD OF AMENARTAS.
ON the day preceding Leo's twenty-fifth birthday we both proceeded to London, and extracted the mysterious chest from the bank where I had deposited it twenty years before.It was, I remember, brought up by the same clerk who had taken it down.He perfectly remembered having hidden it away.Had he not done so, he said, he should have had difficulty in finding it, it was so covered up with cobwebs.
In the evening we returned with our precious burden to Cambridge, and I think that we might both of us have given away all the sleep we got that night and not have been much the poorer.At daybreak Leo arrived in my room in a dressing-gown, and suggested that we should at once proceed to business.I scouted the idea as showing an unworthy curiosity.The chest had waited twenty years, I said, so it could very well continue to wait until after breakfast.Accordingly at ninean unusually sharp ninewe breakfasted; and so occupied was I with my own thoughts that I regret to state that I put a piece of bacon into Leo's tea in mistake for a lump of sugar.Job, too, to whom the contagion of excitement had, of course, spread, managed to break the handle off my Se`vres china tea-cup, the identical one I believe that Marat had been drinking from just before he was stabbed in his bath.
At last, however, breakfast was cleared away, and Job, at my request, fetched the chest, and placed it upon the table in a somewhat gingerly fashion, as though he mistrusted it.Then he prepared to leave the room.
"Stop a moment, Job," I said."If Mr.Leo has no objection, I should prefer to have an independent witness to this business, who can be relied upon to hold his tongue unless he is asked to speak.""Certainly, Uncle Horace," answered Leo; for I had brought him up to call me unclethough he varied the appellation somewhat disrespectfully by calling me "old fellow," or even "my avuncular relative."Job touched his head, not having a hat on.
"Lock the door, Job," I said, "and bring me my despatch-box."He obeyed, and from the box I took the keys that poor Vincey, Leo's father, had given me on the night of his death.There were three of them; the largest a comparatively modern key, the second an exceedingly ancient one, and the third entirely unlike anything of the sort that we had ever seen before, being fashioned apparently from a strip of solid silver, with a bar placed across to serve as a handle, and some nicks cut in the edge of the bar.It was more like a model of some antediluvian railway key than anything else.
"Now, are you both ready?" I said, as people do when they are going to fire a mine.There was no answer, so I took the big key, rubbed some salad oil into the wards, and after one or two bad shots, for my hands were shaking, managed to fit it, and shoot the lock.
Leo bent over and caught the massive lid in both his hands, and with an effort, for the hinges had rusted, leaned it back.Its removal revealed another case covered with dust.This we extracted from the iron chest without any difficulty, and removed the accumulated filth of years from it with a clothes-brush.
It was, or appeared to be, of ebony, or some such close-grained black wood, and was bound in every direction with flat bands of iron.Its antiquity must have been extreme, for the dense, heavy wood was actually in parts commencing to crumble away from age.
"Now for it," I said, inserting the second key.
Job and Leo bent forward in breathless silence.The key turned, and I flung back the lid, and uttered an exclamation, as did the others; and no wonder, for inside the ebony case was a magnificent silver casket, about twelve inches square by eight high.It appeared to be of Egyptian workmanship, for the four legs were formed of Sphinxes, and the dome-shaped cover was also surmounted by a Sphinx.The casket was of course much tarnished and dinted with age, but otherwise in fairly sound condition.
I drew it out and set it on the table, and then, in the midst of the most perfect silence, I inserted the strange-looking silver key, and pressed this way and that until at last the lock yielded, and the casket stood open before us.It was filled to the brim with some brown shredded material, more like vegetable fibre than paper, the nature of which I have never been able to discover.This I carefully removed to the depth of some three inches, when I came to a letter enclosed in an ordinary modern looking envelope, and addressed in the handwriting of my dead friend Vincey
"To my son Leo, should he live to open this casket."I handed the letter to Leo, who glanced at the envelope, and then put it down upon the table, making a motion to me to go on emptying the casket.
