“And down at the bottom of their garden was a bit of wild part like. So
I says to 'im, 'Why don't you 'ave a rockery 'ere?' I says. 'It 'ud look
nice.'
“'Too much expense,' he says.
“'Not a penny,' says I. 'I'm a dab at rockeries. Lemme make you one.'
You see, I'd 'elped my brother make a rockery in the beer garden be'ind
'is tap, so I knew 'ow to do it to rights. 'Lemme make you one,' I says.
'It's 'olidays, but I'm that sort of chap, I 'ate doing nothing,' I
says. 'I'll make you one to rights.' And the long and the short of it
was, he said I might.
“And that's 'ow I come on the treasure.”
“What treasure?” I asked.
“Why!” said Mr. Brisher, “the treasure I'm telling you about, what's the
reason why I never married.”
“What!--a treasure--dug up?”
“Yes--buried wealth--treasure trove. Come out of the ground. What I
kept on saying--regular treasure....” He looked at me with unusual
disrespect.
“It wasn't more than a foot deep, not the top of it,” he said. “I'd
'ardly got thirsty like, before I come on the corner.”
“Go on,” I said. “I didn't understand.”
“Why! Directly I 'it the box I knew it was treasure. A sort of instinct
told me. Something seemed to shout inside of me--'Now's your chance--lie
low.' It's lucky I knew the laws of treasure trove or I'd 'ave been
shoutin' there and then. I daresay you know--”
“Crown bags it,” I said, “all but one per cent. Go on. It's a shame.
What did you do?”
“Uncovered the top of the box. There wasn't anybody in the garden or
about like. Jane was 'elping 'er mother do the 'ouse. I WAS excited--I
tell you. I tried the lock and then gave a whack at the hinges. Open it
came. Silver coins--full! Shining. It made me tremble to see 'em. And
jest then--I'm blessed if the dustman didn't come round the back of the
'ouse. It pretty nearly gave me 'eart disease to think what a fool I
was to 'ave that money showing. And directly after I 'eard the chap next
door--'e was 'olidaying, too--I 'eard him watering 'is beans. If only
'e'd looked over the fence!”
“What did you do?”
“Kicked the lid on again and covered it up like a shot, and went on
digging about a yard away from it--like mad. And my face, so to speak,
was laughing on its own account till I had it hid. I tell you I was
regular scared like at my luck. I jest thought that it 'ad to be
kep' close and that was all. 'Treasure,' I kep' whisperin' to myself,
'Treasure' and ''undreds of pounds, 'undreds, 'undreds of pounds.'
Whispering to myself like, and digging like blazes. It seemed to me the
box was regular sticking out and showing, like your legs do under the
sheets in bed, and I went and put all the earth I'd got out of my 'ole
for the rockery slap on top of it. I WAS in a sweat. And in the midst of
it all out toddles 'er father. He didn't say anything to me, jest stood
behind me and stared, but Jane tole me afterwards when he went indoors,
'e says, 'That there jackanapes of yours, Jane'--he always called me
a jackanapes some'ow--'knows 'ow to put 'is back into it after all.'
Seemed quite impressed by it, 'e did.”
“How long was the box?” I asked, suddenly.
“'Ow long?” said Mr. Brisher.
“Yes--in length?”
“Oh! 'bout so-by-so.” Mr. Brisher indicated a moderate-sized trunk.
“FULL?” said I.
“Full up of silver coins--'arf-crowns, I believe.”
“Why!” I cried, “that would mean--hundreds of pounds.”
“Thousands,” said Mr. Brisher, in a sort of sad calm. “I calc'lated it
out.”
“But how did they get there?”
“All I know is what I found. What I thought at the time was this. The
chap who'd owned the 'ouse before 'er father 'd been a regular slap-up
burglar. What you'd call a 'igh-class criminal. Used to drive 'is
trap--like Peace did.” Mr. Brisher meditated on the difficulties of
narration and embarked on a complicated parenthesis. “I don't know if I
told you it'd been a burglar's 'ouse before it was my girl's father's,
and I knew 'e'd robbed a mail train once, I did know that. It seemed to
me--”
“That's very likely,” I said. “But what did you do?”
“Sweated,” said Mr. Brisher. “Regular run orf me. All that morning,”
said Mr. Brisher, “I was at it, pretending to make that rockery and
wondering what I should do. I'd 'ave told 'er father p'r'aps, only I was
doubtful of 'is honesty--I was afraid he might rob me of it like, and
give it up to the authorities--and besides, considering I was marrying
into the family, I thought it would be nicer like if it came through me.
Put me on a better footing, so to speak. Well, I 'ad three days before
me left of my 'olidays, so there wasn't no hurry, so I covered it up and
went on digging, and tried to puzzle out 'ow I was to make sure of it.
Only I couldn't.
“I thought,” said Mr. Brisher, “AND I thought. Once I got regular
doubtful whether I'd seen it or not, and went down to it and 'ad it
uncovered again, just as her ma came out to 'ang up a bit of washin'
she'd done. Jumps again! Afterwards I was just thinking I'd 'ave another
go at it, when Jane comes to tell me dinner was ready. 'You'll want it,'
she said, 'seeing all the 'ole you've dug.'
“I was in a regular daze all dinner, wondering whether that chap next
door wasn't over the fence and filling 'is pockets. But in the afternoon
I got easier in my mind--it seemed to me it must 'ave been there so long
it was pretty sure to stop a bit longer--and I tried to get up a bit of
a discussion to dror out the old man and see what 'E thought of treasure
trove.”
Mr. Brisher paused, and affected amusement at the memory.
“The old man was a scorcher,” he said; “a regular scorcher.”
“What!” said I; “did he--?”
“It was like this,” explained Mr. Brisher, laying a friendly hand on my
arm and breathing into my face to calm me. “Just to dror 'im out, I told
a story of a chap I said I knew--pretendin', you know--who'd found a
sovring in a novercoat 'e'd borrowed. I said 'e stuck to it, but I said
I wasn't sure whether that was right or not. And then the old man
began. Lor'! 'e DID let me 'ave it!” Mr. Brisher affected an insincere
amusement. “'E was, well--what you might call a rare 'and at Snacks.
Said that was the sort of friend 'e'd naturally expect me to 'ave. Said
'e'd naturally expect that from the friend of a out-of-work loafer who
took up with daughters who didn't belong to 'im. There! I couldn't tell
you 'ARF 'e said. 'E went on most outrageous. I stood up to 'im about
it, just to dror 'im out. 'Wouldn't you stick to a 'arf-sov', not if you
found it in the street?' I says. 'Certainly not,' 'e says; 'certainly
I wouldn't.' 'What! not if you found it as a sort of treasure?'
'Young man,' 'e says, 'there's 'i'er 'thority than mine--Render unto
Caesar'--what is it? Yes. Well, he fetched up that. A rare 'and at
'itting you over the 'ed with the Bible, was the old man. And so he
went on. 'E got to such Snacks about me at last I couldn't stand it. I'd
promised Jane not to answer 'im back, but it got a bit TOO thick. I--I
give it 'im...”
Mr. Brisher, by means of enigmatical facework, tried to make me think he
had had the best of that argument, but I knew better.
“I went out in a 'uff at last. But not before I was pretty sure I 'ad
to lift that treasure by myself. The only thing that kep' me up was
thinking 'ow I'd take it out of 'im when I 'ad the cash.”
There was a lengthy pause.
“Now, you'd 'ardly believe it, but all them three days I never 'ad a
chance at the blessed treasure, never got out not even a 'arf-crown.
There was always a Somethink--always.
“'Stonishing thing it isn't thought of more,” said Mr. Brisher. “Finding
treasure's no great shakes. It's gettin' it. I don't suppose I slep' a
wink any of those nights, thinking where I was to take it, what I was to
do with it, 'ow I was to explain it. It made me regular ill. And days I
was that dull, it made Jane regular 'uffy. 'You ain't the same chap you
was in London,' she says, several times. I tried to lay it on 'er father
and 'is Snacks, but bless you, she knew better. What must she 'ave but
that I'd got another girl on my mind! Said I wasn't True. Well, we had a
bit of a row. But I was that set on the Treasure, I didn't seem to mind
a bit Anything she said.
“Well, at last I got a sort of plan. I was always a bit good at
planning, though carrying out isn't so much in my line. I thought it
all out and settled on a plan. First, I was going to take all my pockets
full of these 'ere 'arf-crowns--see?--and afterwards as I shall tell.
“Well, I got to that state I couldn't think of getting at the Treasure
again in the daytime, so I waited until the night before I had to go,
and then, when everything was still, up I gets and slips down to
the back door, meaning to get my pockets full. What must I do in the
scullery but fall over a pail! Up gets 'er father with a gun--'e was a
light sleeper was 'er father, and very suspicious and there was me: 'ad
to explain I'd come down to the pump for a drink because my water-bottle
was bad. 'E didn't let me off a Snack or two over that bit, you lay a
bob.”
“And you mean to say--” I began.
“Wait a bit,” said Mr. Brisher. “I say, I'd made my plan. That put the
kybosh on one bit, but it didn't 'urt the general scheme not a bit.
I went and I finished that rockery next day, as though there wasn't a
Snack in the world; cemented over the stones, I did, dabbed it green and
everythink. I put a dab of green just to show where the box was. They
all came and looked at it, and sai 'ow nice it was--even 'e was a bit
softer like to see it, and all he said was, 'It's a pity you can't
always work like that, then you might get something definite to do,' he
says.
“'Yes,' I says--I couldn't 'elp it--'I put a lot in that rockery,' I
says, like that. See? 'I put a lot in that rockery'--meaning--”
“I see,” said I--for Mr. Brisher is apt to overelaborate his jokes.
“_'E_ didn't,” said Mr. Brisher. “Not then, anyhow.
“Ar'ever--after all that was over, off I set for London.... Orf I set
for London.”
Pause.
“On'y I wasn't going to no London,” said Mr. Brisher, with sudden
animation, and thrusting his face into mine. “No fear! What do YOU
think?
“I didn't go no further than Colchester--not a yard.
“I'd left the spade just where I could find it. I'd got everything
planned and right. I 'ired a little trap in Colchester, and pretended I
wanted to go to Ipswich and stop the night, and come back next day, and
the chap I 'ired it from made me leave two sovrings on it right away,
and off I set.
“I didn't go to no Ipswich neither.
“Midnight the 'orse and trap was 'itched by the little road that ran by
the cottage where 'e lived--not sixty yards off, it wasn't--and I was at
it like a good 'un. It was jest the night for such games--overcast--but
a trifle too 'ot, and all round the sky there was summer lightning and
presently a thunderstorm. Down it came. First big drops in a sort of
fizzle, then 'ail. I kep'on. I whacked at it--I didn't dream the old man
would 'ear. I didn't even trouble to go quiet with the spade, and the
thunder and lightning and 'ail seemed to excite me like. I shouldn't
wonder if I was singing. I got so 'ard at it I clean forgot the thunder
and the 'orse and trap. I precious soon got the box showing, and started
to lift it....”
“Heavy?” I said.
“I couldn't no more lift it than fly. I WAS sick. I'd never thought of
that I got regular wild--I tell you, I cursed. I got sort of outrageous.
I didn't think of dividing it like for the minute, and even then I
couldn't 'ave took money about loose in a trap. I hoisted one end sort
of wild like, and over the whole show went with a tremenjous noise.
Perfeck smash of silver. And then right on the heels of that, Flash!
Lightning like the day! and there was the back door open and the old
man coming down the garden with 'is blooming old gun. He wasn't not a
'undred yards away!
“I tell you I was that upset--I didn't think what I was doing. I never
stopped-not even to fill my pockets. I went over the fence like a shot,
and ran like one o'clock for the trap, cussing and swearing as I went. I
WAS in a state....
“And will you believe me, when I got to the place where I'd left the
'orse and trap, they'd gone. Orf! When I saw that I 'adn't a cuss left
for it. I jest danced on the grass, and when I'd danced enough I started
off to London.... I was done.”
Mr. Brisher was pensive for an interval. “I was done,” he repeated, very
bitterly.
“Well?” I said.
“That's all,” said Mr. Brisher.
“You didn't go back?”
“No fear. I'd 'ad enough of THAT blooming treasure, any'ow for a bit.
Besides, I didn't know what was done to chaps who tried to collar a
treasure trove. I started off for London there and then....”
“And you never went back?”
“Never.”
“But about Jane? Did you write?”
“Three times, fishing like. And no answer. We'd parted in a bit of a
'uff on account of 'er being jealous. So that I couldn't make out for
certain what it meant.
“I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know whether the old man knew
it was me. I sort of kep' an eye open on papers to see when he'd give
up that treasure to the Crown, as I hadn't a doubt 'e would, considering
'ow respectable he'd always been.”
“And did he?”
Mr. Brisher pursed his mouth and moved his head slowly from side to
side. “Not 'IM,” he said.
“Jane was a nice girl,” he said, “a thorough nice girl mind you, if
jealous, and there's no knowing I mightn't 'ave gone back to 'er after a
bit. I thought if he didn't give up the treasure I might 'ave a sort
of 'old on 'im.... Well, one day I looks as usual under Colchester--and
there I saw 'is name. What for, d'yer think?”