THE TREASURE VAULT.
Meantime Thrasher entered the room which had always been considered as
particularly his own. The officers, went after him, found out the iron
shutters, and fastened them securely. Then looking complacently around
this impromptu prison, they went into the hall, locking the door
securely outside.
Thrasher sat down in his easy chair, and leaning one hand on the table,
waited patiently till they were gone. When all was quiet, he got up,
crossed the room softly, and drew a couple of bolts, hidden in the
elaborate carving of the door frame. He fastened the shutters in the
same way, so that it was impossible for any one to gain entrance to the
apartment against his desire.
When every thing was safe, he pushed the library table aside, and
kneeling upon the mosaic floor, wheeled the centre ornament from its
place. He descended to a flight of steps that led from the opening, and
with a touch of the finger wheeled the pavement into place again,
closing himself into a deep vault, apparently of solid mason work.
Casks, evidently filled with choice wines, for the name of some rare
vintage was marked on each, were piled on one side of the vault; a rack
filled with bottles rose to the ceiling opposite. It was, after all,
only a wine vault that he had taken so much pains to conceal. This would
have been the first conclusion had any one followed Thrasher into that
recess. But his actions spoke of something more.
Previous to entering the vault, he had lighted a lamp, which he now
placed on the pavement. With a quick wrench of the hand, he swung the
wine rack from its place, and busied himself with one of the slabs of
granite which composed the wall. That too swung open, and exposed an
inner compartment, or square chamber, from which came a flash of
precious metals, and iron-clamped boxes, piled in heaps within. A broad
glow, given back to the light, streamed into the outer vault, filling it
with golden gleams.
Thrasher stepped into the recess, and dragged out a bronze box, scarcely
larger than that which held the jewels entrusted to Captain Mason, and
which now blazed on the person of his wife. He opened this box
carefully, and took out a heavy block of gold, evidently pure metal, but
polished smoothly. It was shaped like a common house brick, and weighed
so heavily that the strong hand of Thrasher sunk under it, and it fell
to the stone floor, giving out a ringing sound that made him start,
notwithstanding all his precautions, and the fact that he was now deep
in the bosom of the earth.
There were many lines of fine engraving on one of the flat surfaces of
the brick; the writing was in French, with which Thrasher seemed
familiar, but he read it over with great care more than once. Then
sitting down, with the brick before him, he took out a graver and began
to cut some rude letters on the opposite side. The gold was very soft,
in its pure state, and he made rapid progress; but the record, whatever
it was, took more than two hours in the completion. When it was finished
he dropped the brick into its box, leaving it unlocked. This he placed
just within the mouth of the recess, muttering, "it will be the first
thing to catch the eye."
After this, Thrasher opened another box and took out what seemed, by
their glitter, to be some unset diamonds. These he placed in his bosom.
Then filling his pockets with a weight of the gold coin, he stepped into
the outer vault, swung the granite slab into place, and proceeded to
cement it into the wall with some material which he took from one of the
casks.
When this was accomplished he stole softly up the steps again, let
himself into the upper room, and proceeded to undraw the bolts, which
had given the doors and windows a double fastening. There was nothing
more for him to do. Unconsciously the woman who was his fate, had placed
him in a position to accomplish all that was needful to protect his
wealth, and even if it should be found, to save it from her rapacity.
Once satisfied of this, he became less excited; for during his work,
great drops of perspiration had stood on his forehead, and a wild
eagerness burned in his eyes; now he sat down in his easy chair for the
last time, and sternly awaited the coming of his captors.
About daybreak they opened his prison and took him forth. He turned a
fierce look on the paradise his wild love had created for a woman who
now loaded his misfortunes with scorn, and muttered such bitter words
under his breath that their venom turned his lips white as it passed
them. In these words the last remnant of his love for Ellen Mason went
out, poisoning the sweet breath of the flowers over which it swept.