She accompanied me cheerfully, but her hand grasped mine as we groped our way down the stairs into the dark cabin.  A faint glimmer of gray daylight filtered through the glass from above, and found entrance at the open ports, but the place was nevertheless gloomy enough, and we needed what little help the candle afforded to find our way about.  The memories haunted us both, and hurried us to our special mission.  The door of the storeroom stood wide open, but the after ports were closed, the air within heated and foul.  Dorothy held the lantern, her hands trembling slightly, as I stepped across and unscrewed both ports.  The moist fog blew in upon me but was welcome, although I stared forth into a bank of impenetrable mist.

The dead ape lay just as he had fallen, with his hideous face upturned, and a great gash in the head.  The hatchet with which I had dealt the blow, rested on the deck, disfigured with blood.  The hugeness of the creature, its repulsive aspect in death, with savage teeth gleaming in the rays of the lantern, and long, hairy arms outspread, gave me such a shock, I felt my limbs tremble.  For a moment I could not remove my eyes from the spectacle, or regain control of my nerves.  Then I some way saw the horror, reflected in her face, and realized the requirements of leadership.

“He was certainly a big brute,” I said quietly, “and it was a lucky stroke which finished him.  Now to complete our work in here and get out.”

I picked up the hatchet, and my glance sought the whereabouts of the chest.  The light was confusing, and she stepped forward, throwing the dim yellow flame directly upon the object.

“This is what I saw—­see; does it look like a treasure chest to you?”

“If it be not, I never saw one—­and a hundred years old, if it is a day.  What a story of the sea it might tell if it had a tongue.  There is no way to find its secrets but to break it open.  Place the lantern on this cask of wine; now, if I can gain purchase with the blade, it will be easily accomplished.”

It proved harder than I had believed, the staple of the lock clinging to the hard teak wood of which the chest was made.  I must have been ten minutes at it, compelled to use a wooden bar as lever, before it yielded, groaning as it finally released its grip, like a soul in agony.  I felt the girl clutch me in terror at the sound, her frightened eyes searching the shadows, but I was interested by then to learn what was within, and gave all my effort to lifting the lid.  This was heavy, as though weighted with lead, but as I finally forced it backward, a hinge snapped, and permitted it to drop crashing to the deck.  For an instant I could see nothing within—­no more indeed than some dimly revealed outline, the nature of which could not be determined.  Yet, somehow, it gave me an impression, horrible, grotesque, of a human form.  I gripped the side of the chest afraid to reach downward.