However, he was not going to be frightened by this nonsense, so consigning all superstitions to their father the Devil, he marched on boldly and unlocked the summer-house door.  Now, though this curious edifice had been designed for a summer-house, and for that purpose lined throughout with encaustic tiles, nobody as a matter of fact had ever dreamed of using it to sit in.  To begin with, it roofed over a great depression some thirty feet or more in diameter, for the top of the mount was hollowed out like one of those wooden cups in which jugglers catch balls.  But notwithstanding all the encaustic tiles in the world, damp will gather in a hollow like this, and the damp alone was an objection.  The real fact was, however, that the spot had an evil reputation, and even those who were sufficiently well educated to know the folly of this sort of thing would not willingly have gone there for purposes of enjoyment.  So it had suffered the general fate of disused places, having fallen more or less out of repair and become a receptacle for garden tools, broken cucumber frames and lumber of various sorts.

Harold pushed the door open and entered, shutting it behind him.  It was, if anything, more disagreeable in the empty silence of the wide place than it had been outside, for the space roofed over was considerable, and the question at once arose in his mind, what was he to do now that he had got there?  If the treasure was there at all, probably it was deep down in the bowels of the great mound.  Well, as he was on the spot, he thought that he might as well try to dig, though probably nothing would come of it.  In the corner were a pickaxe and some spades and shovels.  Harold got them, advanced to the centre of the space and, half laughing at his own folly, set to work.  First, having lit another lantern which was kept there, he removed with the sharp end of the pickaxe a large patch of the encaustic tiles exactly in the centre of the depression.  Then having loosened the soil beneath with the pick he took off his ulster and fell to digging with a will.  The soil proved to be very sandy and easy to work.  Indeed, from its appearance, he soon came to the conclusion that it was not virgin earth, but worked soil which had been thrown there.

Presently his spade struck against something hard; he picked it up and held it to the lantern.  It proved to be an ancient spear-head, and near it were some bones, though whether or no they were human he could not at the time determine.  This was very interesting, but it was scarcely what he wanted, so he dug on manfully until he found himself chest deep in a kind of grave.  He had been digging for an hour now, and was getting very tired.  Cold as it was the perspiration poured from him.  As he paused for breath he heard the church clock strike two, and very solemnly it sounded down the wild ways of the wind-torn winter night.  He dug on a little more, and then seriously thought of giving up what he was somewhat ashamed of having undertaken.  How was he to account for this great hole to his gardener on the following morning?  Then and there he made up his mind that he would not account for it.  The gardener, in common with the rest of the village, believed that the place was haunted.  Let him set down the hole to the “spooks” and their spiritual activity.