“No. It's guarded by men who are getting big pay for being honest. You can buy honesty--if you treat it as a luxury and pay for it as such. Each box weighs one hundred and fifty pounds, for convenience in handling. Would you like to see the stuff?” He could not hide a boyish eagerness--not at all offensive--to impress his new friend. J. Willoughby Parkhurst forgave him in advance, and to prove it said, heartily: “Very much indeed!” “Very well. Please come with me.” And he led the way to the engine-room. They went down two flights. At the door of the engine-room they met the engineer, who bowed with an obsequiousness that indicated sincere gratitude and renewed hope--as of a man who has received a handsome gratuity and is expecting another. In the middle of the concrete floor, of the engine-room, piled up in an amazingly small mound of boxes, was the gold. “Each box has about fifty thousand dollars in dust,” explained Jerningham, with what one might have called a matter-of-fact pride. “Would you like to open one?” “I don't want to put you to any trouble--not for worlds; but I do want to see the inside of one like anything.” “No trouble. I say, Mr. Wilkinson,” to the hotel engineer, who had followed them, a deferential smile fastened to his face, “could you get me a hammer and chisel and a screw-driver?” “Certainly, Mr. Jerningham,” said the engineer, with obvious pride at being part of an extraordinary adventure. He reappeared presently with the tools and a burly assistant. They pried off the steel hoop and cracked off the sealing-wax from over the heads of the screws that held the lid in place. They then unscrewed the cover--and there before their wide-gaping eyes was a boxful of yellow Yukon gold. Jerningham smilingly looked at J. Willoughby Parkhurst and waved his hand toward the treasure--a gesture that said Help yourself!--only it said it humorously. And so the reporter smiled indulgently and plunged his hand in it. “How heavy!” he exclaimed, involuntarily. He had meant to be witty, as penniless people always are in the presence of great wealth to show that they are not impressed. “It will be light enough to blow away here,” said Jerningham so seriously that nobody smiled--indeed, everybody hoped for a blast in the direction of his own pocket. Put Jerningham merely said: “Thank you. Will you screw it on again?” And the engineer did. Jerningham did not stay to see the rescrewing finished. He took Parkhurst's arm and walked out. The reporter told him: “I can't help thinking it was imprudent. The detectives now know they can open the boxes and--”