Kit tucked the end of the sash under the neatly-arranged folds.  Some time is required to put on a Spanish faja and at first Kit had thought the trouble unnecessary, but had found it is prudent to protect the middle of the body in a hot climate.  When he was satisfied, he turned and looked about the room.  There were no curtains or carpets, and two very crude religious pictures were fixed to the wall.  Although the air was not yet hot, it was not fresh and a smell of spices, decay, and burnt oil came in through the window that opened on the patio.

A sunbeam touched a small earthen jar, holding a bunch of feather flowers.  The jar was harshly colored, but the outline was bold and graceful, and Kit knew no pottery like that had been made in the country since the Spaniards came.  He had bought it with the flowers for a few dollars, and remembered that the shopkeeper had included its contents when he offered it to him. “Todo loque hay,” he said in uncouth Castilian.

Kit, turning over the jar carelessly, took out the flowers and as he did so something inside rattled and a large coin fell into his hand.  The coin was old and heavy; indeed, he thought it weighed about an ounce.  Taking it to the window, he rubbed its dull face and when the metal began to shine sat down with a thoughtful look.  Unless he was mistaken, the coin was gold and did weigh an ounce.

When he finished dressing he went to the little dark shop.  The shopkeeper was making coffee with a handful of charcoal on the doorstep, for the sake of the draught, and took off his hat politely as Kit came up.

“I found a piece of money in the jar I bought from you,” Kit said in Castilian.

“Then your worship is lucky,” the other remarked.

“But the money was not mine.”

The shopkeeper shrugged.  “What matter?  It is yours now.  Was the coin worth much?”

“It was worth finding.”

“Well,” said the shopkeeper, “I do not know where the money came from, and it may have been there a very long time.  The jar is old and I bought it from an Indian some years since.”  He paused and gave Kit a keen glance.  “You will remember that I offered you the jar with all there was inside.”

“You did; it held some feather flowers.  Still, as you did know about the money—­”

“Then you want to give it back, if the owner can be found!”

“Certainly,” said Kit.

The shopkeeper bowed.  “I will make enquiries.  If you should need anything I sell, senor, perhaps you will remember that I am an honest man.”

Kit went away, feeling puzzled and somewhat surprised.  It looked as if the fellow was honest, but Kit thought he had studied him and there was something curious about his manner.  Besides, a remark he made implied that he knew the coin was old.

When he ate his eleven o’clock breakfast with Adam and the President in the arcade, he took out the coin and told them about the shopkeeper’s refusal to take it back.