Now, on this night, as the company at the Tavern parted at ten o’clock, instead of shouldering his club and marching off, the old sailor turned to his nephews. ‘Boys,’ he said--he had never called them ‘boys’ before--‘I have something to say. I had better say it at once, because, look you, I think I am getting old, and in a few score years, more or less, it may be too late to say it. Come with me, then, to my poor house in Broad Street.’ The nephews, greatly astonished and marvelling much, followed him. They were going to be told something. What? The truth about the jewels? The nature of the property? The old man led the way, brandishing his stick, stout and erect. He took them to his house, opened the door, closed it and barred it; got his tinder-box, and obtained a light for a thick ship’s tallow candle. Then he barred the window-shutter. His nephews looked round the room. It was the first time they had stood within those walls. There was a table; there was an armchair, a high armchair in which one could sit protected from the draughts by the fireside; there was a tobacco-box, with two or three churchwarden pipes; there was a cupboard with plates. A kettle was on one side of the hob, and a gridiron on the other. There was no other furniture in the room. But the door and the window-shutters were both of oak, thick and massive. And on the wall were hung a cutlass and a brace of pistols. ‘Wait here a bit,’ said the old man. He took the candle and carried it into the other room, leaving them in the dark. After a few minutes he returned, bearing a small canvas sack. ‘Nephews,’ he said, laying the bag on the table, and keeping both hands upon it, ‘you come every night to the Red Lion in hopes of finding out something about my property. It is your inheritance; why shouldn’t you come? Sometimes you think it is much, then your spirits rise. Sometimes you think it is little, then your spirits sink. When I begin to talk you prick up your ears; but you never hear anything. Then you go home and you wonder how long the old man will last, eh? and how much money he has got, eh? and what he will do with it, eh? Well, now, you shall have your curiosity satisfied.’ ‘Sir,’ said one of the nephews, ‘our spirits may well sink at the thought of your falling into poverty.’ ‘And,’ said the other, ‘they may well be expected to rise at the thought of your prosperity.’ ‘I have told you many stories of travel and of profit. Sometimes you believe, in which case you show signs of satisfaction. Sometimes you look glum when you think that you are wasting your evenings.’ ‘Oh, sir,’ said one of the nephews, ‘sure one cannot waste one’s time in such good and improving company as yourself.’ ‘We come,’ said the other, ‘for instruction. Your talk is more instructive than any book of travel.’