"This must be very old. It's the red gold which came into Ireland and England before the Romans conquered the land. Perhaps this was found in some old barrow on Lorne lands. But it no longer means anything without the Luck." He held it out to Ricky. "By tradition this is yours." She shook her head. "I don't think I want that, Rupert. It's too old--too strange. Now these," she held up the earrings, "you can understand. The girls who wore them were like me, and they wore them because they were pretty. But that--" she looked at the Bride's ring with distaste--"that must have been a burden to its wearer. Didn't you tell us once of the Lady Iseult, who killed herself when they would not release her from her vows to the Luck? I don't want to wear that, ever." "Very well." He dropped it back into its bag. "We'll send it to LeFleur for safe-keeping. Any scruples about the rest of this stuff?" "Of course not! And none of it is worth much. May I keep it?" "If you wish. Now let's see what is in here." He drew the second box toward him and forced it open. "Money!" Charity was staring at it with wide eyes. Within, in neat bundles, lay packages of paper notes. Even Rupert was shaken from his calm as he reached for one. Outside of a bank none of them had ever seen such a display of wealth. But after he studied the top note, the master of Pirate's Haven laughed thinly. "This may be worth ten cents to some collector if we're lucky--" "Rupert! That's real money," began Ricky. But Val, too, had seen the print. "Confederate money, child. As useless now as our pretty oil stock. I told you that things always turn out wrong in this house. If we do find treasure, it's worthless. How much is there, anyway?" Rupert picked up a slip of paper tucked under the tape fastening the first bundle. "This says thirty-five thousand--profit from a blockade runner's trip." "Thirty-five thousand! Well, I think that that is just too much," Ricky said defiantly. "Why didn't they get paid in real money?" "Being loyal to the South, the Ralestones probably would not take what you call 'real money,'" replied Charity. "It's nice to know how wealthy we once were," Val observed. "What are you going to do with that wall-paper, Rupert?" "Oh, chuck it in my desk. I'll get someone to look it over; there might be a collector's item among these bills. Now let's have the joker out of _this_ bundle." He plucked at the fastenings of the felt bag. When he had pulled off its wrappings, a silver tray with coffee- and chocolate-pot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl stood, tarnished and dingy, on the floor. "That's more like it." Ricky picked up the chocolate-pot. "Do you suppose it will ever be possible to get these clean again?" "With a lot of will power and some good hard rubbing it can be done," Val assured her. "Well, I'll supply the will power and you may do the rubbing," she announced pleasantly.