“I shall be most delighted, sir,” replied Olympio, with less politeness and more truth than he supposed. “I will show you your room in a moment. Hi! Kwaku! why you no bring Mr. Englefield his candle?” The latter question was bawled through the open door into the darkness of the back compound, from which presently emerged a small boy bearing a paraffin lamp, which he shaded skilfully from the strong sea breeze. Olympio took the lamp and led the way into my bedroom, which opened out of the room in which we had been sitting. He held the lamp above his head as we entered, and looked round the room with evident pride in the resources of civilisation that it exhibited. It was indeed far beyond my expectations, and I hastened to say so, for Adena was but a remote native hamlet and little could be expected there but the ordinary accommodation of a native house. Yet there was a good iron bedstead with clean white sheets and a serviceable mosquito curtain, a washstand with a veritable china basin, and a dressing-table fitted with a looking-glass fully nine inches square. But the most surprising and unexpected object in the room was a small but massive oak chest of drawers with a secretary top, which I at once perceived, both from its quaint and antique design and the dark colour of the wood, must be of considerable age. “That is a fine piece of furniture, Mr. Olympio,” I remarked. “There are not many like it in Africa, I expect.” “No,” he replied, setting the lamp on it and passing his hand affectionately over its polished surface. “I have never seen one like it even in the castle at Elmina. It is very old. My grandfather had it in his house at Adáffia when my father was a child, I have heard him say.” “Did he bring it out from Portugal with him?” “Oh, no. It came from a ship that broke up on the beach at Adáffia many, many years ago. I have heard that she was English.” “You don’t know her name, then?” “No. It was long, long time ago--before my grandfather’s time, I think. I have told Kwaku to put your things in the drawers. I thought you would like it because the chest is an English chest. I don’t give it to the Germans who come here.” He smiled shyly and backed towards the door, and when I had thanked him--which I did warmly--for this graceful little act of courtesy, he wished me “good-night” and went away much gratified. Left to myself I made leisurely preparations for bed, ruminating, as I undressed and washed, upon the strange fortunes of the old ship’s chest, speculating upon its history, upon the men who had fashioned it, on the old-time skipper who had sat before it to write his old-world letters, and on the bills of lading, charter-parties, and other sea documents that had once reposed in its pigeon-holes and drawers.