We followed her into the room where Carr lay.  He was awake, and the signorina went and asked him how he was.  Then she continued: 

“We shall have to disturb you for a few minutes, Mr. Carr.  You don’t mind, do you?”

“Must I get out of bed?” asked Johnny.

“Certainly not while I’m here,” said the signorina.  “You’ve only got to shut your eyes and lie still; but we’re going to make a little noise.”

There was in the room, as perhaps might be expected, a washing-stand.  This article was of the description one often sees; above the level of the stand itself there rose a wooden screen to the height of two feet and a half, covered with pretty tiles, the presumable object being to protect the wall paper.  I never saw a more innocent-looking bit of furniture; it might have stood in a lady’s dressing-room.  The signorina went up to it and slid it gently on one side; it moved in a groove!  Then she pressed a spot in the wall behind and a small piece of it rolled aside, disclosing a keyhole.

“He’s taken the key, of course,” she said.  “We must break it open.  Who’s got a hammer?”

Tools were procured, and, working under the signorina’s directions, after a good deal of trouble, we laid bare a neat little safe embedded in the wall.  This safe was legibly inscribed on the outside “Burglar’s Puzzle.”  We however, were not afraid of making a noise, and it only puzzled us for ten minutes.

When opened it revealed a Golconda!  There lay in securities and cash no less than five hundred thousand dollars!

We smiled at one another.

“A sad revelation!” I remarked.

“Hoary old fox!” said the colonel.

No wonder the harbor works were unremunerative in their early stages.  The President must have kept them at a very early stage.

“What are you people up to?” cried Carr.

“Rank burglary, my dear boy,” I replied, and we retreated with our spoil.

“Now,” said I to the colonel, “what are you going to do?”

“Why, what do you think, Mr. Martin?” interposed the signorina.  “He’s going to give you your money, and divide the rest with his sincere friend Christina Nugent.”

“Well, I suppose so,” said the colonel.  “But it strikes me you’re making a good thing of this, Martin.”

“My dear colonel,” said I, “a bargain is a bargain; and where would you have been without my money?”

The colonel made no reply, but handed me the money, which I liked much better.  I took the three hundred and twenty thousand dollars and said: 

“Now, I can face the world, an honest man.”

The signorina laughed.

“I am glad,” she said, “chiefly for poor old Jones’ sake.  It’ll take a load off his mind.”

The colonel proceeded to divide the remainder into two little heaps, of which he pushed one over to the signorina.  She took it gayly, and said: