These are damping reflections for a young man to whom the keys of heaven have just been given, and they made Sam pensive. But his natural ebullience was not long in coming to the rescue. One turn up and down the garden and he was happy again in the possession of lavish rewards bestowed upon him by beaming bank managers, rejoicing in their hearty City fashion as they saw those missing bonds restored to them after many years. He refused absolutely to consider the possibility of failure to unearth the treasure. It must be somewhere in Mon Repos, and if it was in Mon Repos he would find it--even if, in direct contravention of the terms of Clause 8 in his lease, he had to tear the house to pieces. He strode, full of a great purpose, to the window of the kitchen. A light shone there, and he could hear the rumbling voice of his faithful henchman. He tapped upon the window, and presently the blind shot up and Hash’s face appeared. In the background Claire, a little flushed, was smoothing her hair. The window opened. “Who’s there?” said Hash gruffly. “Only me, Hash. I want a word with you.” “Ur?” “Listen, Hash. Tear yourself away shortly, and come back to Mon Repos. There is man’s work to do there.” “Eh?” “We’ve got to search that house from top to bottom. I’ve just found out that it’s full of bonds.” “You don’t say!” “I do say.” “Nasty things,” said Hash reflectively. “Go off in your ’ands as likely as not.” At this moment the quiet night was rent by a strident voice. “Sam! Hi, Sam! Come quick!” It was the voice of Willoughby Braddock, and it appeared to proceed from one of the upper rooms of Mon Repos. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN SPIRITED BEHAVIOUR OF MR. BRADDOCK When Willoughby Braddock, some ten minutes earlier, had parted from Kay and come out on to the gravel walk in front of San Rafael, he was in a condition of mind which it is seldom given to man to achieve until well through the second quart of champagne. So stirred was his soul, so churned up by a whirlwind of powerful emotions, that he could have stepped straight into any hospital as a fever patient and no questions asked. For the world had become of a sudden amazingly vivid to Willoughby. After a quarter of a century in which absolutely nothing had occurred to ruffle the placid surface of his somewhat stagnant existence, strange and exhilarating things had begun to happen to him with a startling abruptness. When he reflected that he had actually stood chatting face to face with a member of the criminal classes, interrupting him in the very act of burgling a house, and on top of that had found Lord Tilbury, a man who was on the committee of his club, violently transformed into a sans-culotte, it seemed to him that life in the true meaning of the word had at last begun.