Now I am mortally afraid of rats and mice, and what I had touched had the sleazy feel of frayed silk.  It might be a rat’s nest!  I took a sliver of lightwood from the fire, and with this examined the black interior, before I ventured my fingers again.  It wasn’t a rat’s nest in the corner.  It was a package.  A package, or rather a sizable buckskin bag carefully tied together with thongs of the same material, and this wrapped in a piece of silk that tore and went to pieces even as I fingered it.

Even then I didn’t guess!  I thought it was, perhaps, a Revolutionary hoard, maybe such another collection of old coins as we had found in the room without windows.

The silk dropped away like rotting leaves, but the buckskin bag was stout and in perfect condition.  So many and so hard were the knots in the thongs that I had to use my penknife to cut them.  And having done so, I poured the contents of the bag on the library table.

It was, as I have said, a gray day.  But the fires of a century’s sunsets flamed and flashed in that library!  Ruby, sapphire, diamond, emerald, pearl—­how they glowed and glimmered!  How they shone and sparkled!  For the moment there fell upon me that madness that jewels bring upon women, a sort of wild delight in their hard, bright beauty, an ecstasy, an intoxication.  I poured them from one hand to the other, I held the greatest to my cheek.  The loveliness of them went to my head.  “I did chap them atween my hands, as children chap chaff.  They did glow like the Devill his rainbow,” Jessamine had said.  And remembering her, the delight vanished.

With stunning force the meaning of this discovery came home to me.  I had found the unfindable!  This, this was where Shooba had hidden them between a night and a morning, Shooba the “skilfullest workman on Hynds place.”  One fancied him here, in the dead of night, while all Hynds House slept a drugged sleep.  It would suit his sardonic humor, his impish malice, to hide them where the Hyndses must pass them daily; and, himself a slave, to hide them behind the pictured semblance of Washington.  The grim irony of the thing!  And not the cunning of man, but the antics of a cur, a yellow nigger dog, had outwitted the cunning of the old witch doctor!  Beautiful Dog had brought to light that which Jessamine had died alone in the dark rather than reveal.

There was one thing more in the buckskin bag, wrapped separately.  When I got this separate package open, I found three frayed, black feathers bound together with a strand of black hair, a piece of yellow wax with two slivers of what I think was bone thrust through it crosswise, and a small semblance of a snake, rudely carved out of wood.  There was, too, some dust, or powder, that must once have been leaves, or perhaps roots.  These unchancy things and the bag that held them I dropped into the fire, breathing a sigh of relief to see its red tooth seize upon them.  The wax made a hissing noise, and the dust of leaves, or whatever it was, burned with a bright, fierce flame.