The box was wedged so fast in the sand that when I first tried to lift it I mistook the sand's firm grip for the weight of gold within. After some fifteen minutes' rapid work I managed to dig it clear. But when I lifted it my heart sank. It was very light! I tossed it out of the hole as easily as I could have tossed an empty steamer trunk. It fell upon its side and the cover dropped open, revealing the interior. I leaped from the hole and stood beside Graham. She was staring fixedly at the box and as I came near her she reached out and steadied herself by placing her hand upon my arm. Alas! for our dream of buried treasure! Save for one object, the box was empty. Rushing forward I reached in and drew that object forth. It was a New York newspaper, more than a year old and wrapped within it was a Seaboard Air Line timetable, of equally ancient date. These pathetic relics I placed in Graham's hands. She stared at them blankly. "Well, partner," I said, "there's the treasure! I make you a free gift of my half of it." The comedy of it all burst in on me now. The lawyer's pedantic letter. Uncle Abner's chart and acid note to me, my race with Graham--Graham, whom I had mistaken for a gray-bearded old man upon the train--my meeting with her lovely self upon the key, our partnership and its result. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until I nearly fell into the pit that I had digged. Then suddenly--quite as suddenly as I had begun--I stopped, for I saw Graham. What a selfish beast a man can be! Could I not have foreseen that this insane treasure hunt which was little more than sport to me, might to Graham be a vitally important thing? What did I know of her circumstances? What right had I to conclude that she----? Outlined sharply against the sunset sky I saw her swaying where she stood. There were tears in her eyes. I hurried to her and she leaned against me weakly. "I am sorry," I said, "awfully, awfully sorry!" She looked at me and tried to smile. "I am glad," she said in a quavering voice, "I am glad that you can laugh. I wish _I_ could." "Try!" I begged, "oh, please do try! I love you when you laugh--when you _don't_ laugh, too, of course--but really, Graham, really! I cannot bear to see you cry!" I don't know just how I got them, but I suddenly found that I was holding both her hands, as I entreated. I don't think she knew it any more than I did when I took them. "Don't feel badly about it!" I begged her. "What's the use? You must see that it's a joke--a joke on both of us. Either someone got here first and took the treasure off, or Uncle Abner thought he'd have post-mortem fun with his surviving relatives. You see, Graham," (I think I may have said "Graham _dear_") "you see the joke, don't you?"