"It may be so," said Mr. Desmond, thoughtfully. "At any rate, I shall immediately quit this place where I now live, and shall seek for an asylum in some still more retired and undiscoverable locality. Meantime let us examine into the safety of the treasure which you have so faithfully transported thither." And, as he concluded his speech, he arose, and crossing the room to a handsome mahogany escritoire, and opening a secret drawer therein, brought thence a small steel key, the fellow to that with which his unfortunate brother had once before opened the casket in Griscombe's presence. This he applied to the lock, gave it a turn, and threw back the lid. The piercing and terrible shriek which instantly succeeded the action struck through Griscombe's brain like a dagger. The next moment he beheld his host stagger back, clutching at the empty air, and at last fall into a dishevelled heap into the arm-chair behind him, where he lay white and shrunken together as though shrivelled up to one-half his former size and bulk by a vision that had just blasted his sight. So unexpected was this conclusion, and so terrifying, that Griscombe sat as though stupefied. At last he arose, hardly conscious of what he was doing, and the next moment found himself gazing down into the interior depths of the open casket, like one in a dream. There before him he beheld a spectacle the most dreadful that ever he had beheld. His sight appeared to him to swim as though through a transparent fluid, his brain expanded with a fantastic volatility, and his soul fluttered, as it were, upon his lips. For there before him lay, entirely surrounded by lamb's wool as white as snow, a still, calm face, as transparent as wax,--the immobile face of the first Mr. Desmond, now infinitely terrible in its image of eternal sleep. As though in a malign mockery, the now worthless jewels--about which the possessor had once been so infinitely concerned--had been poured out carelessly upon the motionless lineaments. A precious diamond, like a tear, reposed upon the transparent cheek, and a ruby of inestimable value clung to the pallid and sphinx-like lips. Across the forehead was stretched a fillet of linen; and upon it were inscribed in letters as black as ink the two ominous words-- [Illustration] How long Griscombe stood like one entranced, gazing at the dreadful spectacle before him, he could never tell; but, when at last he turned, it was to behold that Mr. Desmond had arisen from his seat, and that he was now clutching to the mantel-shelf as he stood leaning against it, his body heaving and his whole frame convulsed with the vehemence of the passion that racked every joint and bone. "God, man!" he cried at last in a hoarse and raucous voice, and without turning his face: "shut the box lid!"--and Griscombe obeyed with stiff and nerveless fingers that strangely disregarded the commands of his will. [Illustration: "_YOU NEXT!_"]