Howel drank a wine-glass of raw brandy and went upstairs with the keys in his hand.  He crept stealthily into that room where the miser breathed his last, as if fearful of arousing the body within the drawn curtains.  He proceeded to the bureau and tried the various keys of the large bunch that he now grasped for the first time in his life.  At last one key entered the lock and turned in it.  Hush! there is a sound in the room.  He turns very pale as he glances round.  He sees no movement anywhere.  The curtains are so still that he almost wishes the wind would stir them.  He opens the bureau and again looks wistfully round.  He is almost sure that the curtains move.  ‘Coward that I am,’ he cries, ’what do I fear?’

He turns again, and, looking into the bureau, sees that all the open divisions are filled with papers, and imagines what must be the contents of the closed and secret compartments.  As he touches one of these a tremor seizes him, and he fancies that a hand is on his shoulder.  He starts and turns, but the curtains are motionless as ever.  He goes into the passage and calls, ‘Mother, come here.  Quick!  I want you directly.’

Mrs Jenkins comes upstairs, looking as pale as her son.

’Just help me out with this bureau, mother; I cannot examine it in this room, you have put such ridiculous notions into my head.’

‘I’m afraid, Howel.’

‘Nonsense, come directly, or I must get some one else.’

The pair went into the room and tried to move the bureau that had stood for nearly fifty years in that corner untouched, save by the husband and father, now lifeless near them.  It was very heavy, and scarcely could their united strength move it from its resting-place.  They finally succeeded, however, in dragging it towards the door, in doing which they had to pass the foot of the bed.  Unconsciously they pushed the bed with the corner of the bureau and shook it.  They nearly sank to the ground with terror, expecting, for the moment, to see the miser arise, and again take possession of his treasures.  The mother rushed into the passage, the son again called himself a coward, and, with a great effort, pushed the bureau through the door and shut it after him.

’Now, mother, help to get it into my room.  One would think we were breaking into another man’s house, instead of taking possession of our own property.’

With the whole of their joint strength they succeeded in getting the heavy piece of furniture into Howel’s room, where, having first locked the door, they proceeded to examine its contents.  Disappointment awaited them; they could find nothing but papers.  Deeds, mortgages, bills, letters, accounts, were arranged in every open and shut division.  The drawers contained nothing else, and the little locked cupboard in the centre, the key of which was found upon the bunch, also enshrined nothing but a few very particular documents.

‘These papers could not have made the bureau so heavy,’ said Howel, biting his nails.  ‘There must be secret drawers.’