There was nothing dubious about Montgomery. Tossing his lantern to Bob Turner, he seized the tin case and scampered down the ladder stairs with a speed nothing but habit could have secured. Rushing into the ancient drawing-room, so oddly lighted now, he flung himself headlong upon Madam, stammering excitedly:
"Gr-gr-gram-ma! I've found i-i-i-it!"
Madam remembered the box, so valueless in itself. She had not seen it for years. She had no faith that it held aught but trifles now. Let the good neighbors see. A simple turn of the wrist, the commonplace key clicked in the lock, the flat cover fell back and—the lost treasure was revealed! All the missing jewels in their cases, all the bonds whose value would more than lift the mortgages upon the fine old property, all the gold in canvas sacks which would take Montgomery through college and train him for that possible Presidency to which he aspired.
Was ever such a night? Was ever such honest neighborly rejoicing? And were ever Marsden townsfolk so late out of their comfortable beds? For the candles in the Jacks had long burned out before that procession of happy people took their now darkened way homeward and Kitty Keehoty's Hallowe'en Corkis came to its final end.