"My solemn word of honour, 'tis no more than a little trashy joney of glass--a keepsake of one long dead. Not worth a shilling to anybody but me. Leave that. Since five won't satisfy you I'll make it ten. Then I'm a ruined woman." "Give me that box--else I'll take it," said Putt firmly. "Not that, not that; if you'm a man, don't touch it. 'Tis everything to me, nought to nobody else. I was lying--I was lying to 'e. I be in such a hurry. I've got more than I said--just a few pounds. Fifty-fifty sovereigns in paper--twenty-five apiece to let me go my way." "That's better," said Putt. "I'll close at that if you will, Mark." "Not me--not now. Her's lying still. Us have got her, now us'll squeeze her. Us must see what's in that box--money or no money. I lay 'tis stuffed with diamonds." "Oh, Christ!" cried the woman. "What 'tis to deal with two pig-headed fools! Here--here be a hundred pounds--take it and let me pass." She turned from them, dived in her breast and flourished the notes before their faces. "Pretty money seemingly, but not enough," said Bickford. "I lay there's thousands hid where your damned old heart beats. An' not a penny of it but what was stolen." "An' I be more set than ever on seeing the inside of that there li'l box," added Putt stolidly. "An' I be going to, or God's my judge, I'll take you to Prince Town, Lovey Lee." The woman stared helplessly upon them. "There ban't no law on your side," continued Putt calmly; "for you'm dead an' buried in Widecombe churchyard; and a human, once dead an' buried, have no more rights than a bird in a tree. So you'd best to open that box afore I take it away from 'e for good an' all." Fire flashed in Lovey's eyes and her teeth closed like a trap. More than her life was now at stake; yet she stood powerless before this determined man. "Will you swear to give it back to me, afore the God of Doom?" she asked, drawing the box round from her shoulder. "I'll swear to nought. If 'tis only a glass image, it be useless to any sensible chap, an' you can keep it. But if 'tis watches or gold trinkrums, then you've stole 'em, an' we'll take 'em for ourselves," declared Bickford. "See for yourself, then, you cursed clods! An' come off this bridge. If it fell!" The woman's anger died as she opened her box; her hands trembled; her man's hat had fallen off, and tattered wisps of white hair hung round her head. She sat down, cowered over the treasure, and revealed her sex in this attitude. Lovey opened her box with utmost care, and from a close packing of sphagnum moss, brought forth the Malherb amphora. Putt took it clumsily, and she screamed to him to be cautious. Bickford then examined the box, and reported that nothing more remained in it. "Then give my poor vase back for the love of your mothers," she cried. "You see 'twas solemn truth I spoke to 'e."