At the end of the terrace, in a dark corner by the wall, grew a stunted fig-tree, its roots set among the flagstones, its boughs overhanging the tide; and by the roots, between the bole of the trees and the wall, one of the flagstones had a notch in its edge, a notch in old days cunningly concealed, the trick of it known only to the Major. He drew out a small marlingspike which he carried in a sheath at his hip, and, bending over the flagstone, felt for the notch; found it, inserted the point, and began to prise, glancing, as he worked, over his shoulder at the windows of the house. A lamp shone in one. . . . So much the better. If the room had an inmate, the lamp would make it harder for him or her to see what went on in the dim garden. Ten years. . . . Could his hoard have lain all that time undisturbed? He had hidden it in the old days of the invasion-scare, as many a citizen had made secret deposit against emergencies. Banks were novelties in those days. Who knew what might happen to a bank, if Boney landed? But ten years . . . a long time . . . and yet to all appearances the stone had not been tampered with. He levered it up and thrust it aside. No! There the bags lay amid the earth! Two bags, and a hundred guineas in each! He clutched and felt their full round sides. Yes, yes, they were full, as he had left them! WHO-OOSH! Heavens! What was _that_? The Major gripped his bags and was preparing to run; but, an instant later, cowered low, and backed into the fig-tree's shadow as the whole sky leapt into flame and shook with a terrific detonation. The Regatta fireworks had begun. Across the little garden a window went up. "My dear," said a voice (the Doctor's), "bring the child to look, if he won't be frightened." In the window they stood, all three--the Doctor, "Miss Marty," the child--a happy domestic group, framed there with the lamp behind them. Deep as he could squeeze himself back into the shadow, the Major cowered and watched them. The child crowed and leapt with delight. His father and mother looked down at him, then at one another, and laughed happily. Alas! poor Major! They had no eyes to search the garden. What should they suspect, those two, there in the warm circle of the lamp, wrapped in their own security? The rockets ceased to blaze and bang. At length the heavens resumed their dark peace, and the distant barrel-organ reasserted itself from the Town Quay. The child's voice demanded more, but his father closed the window and drew the curtain close. Panting hard, his brow clammy with sweat, the Major stole forth and down to the boat with his poor spoils.