did this happen?" he asked. 

 "Ah couldn't help it, Mistah Grimshaw," said Sam ruefully.  "Ma back jes' nacherly give way, an' Ah had to let go. Ah'm pow'ful sorry, sah." 

 Sam was a favorite with the old man, who refrained from scolding him but stood a moment looking curiously at the box. 

 "Carry it into the office," he said at last to Sam.  "And you, Allen, come along." 

 

 

 CHAPTER VI 

 THE BROKEN CHEST 

 Sam lifted the big chest, and, very carefully this time to make amends for his previous dereliction, carried it into the private office. He placed it on two chairs that his employer indicated and then withdrew, closing the door softly behind him and rejoicing at having got off so easily. 

 "Well, Allen," remarked Tyke, wiping his glasses and replacing them on the bridge of his nose, "you're going to get your wish sooner than either one of us expected." 

 "What do you mean?" asked Drew wonderingly. 

 "Don't you see anything familiar about this box?" replied Tyke, answering a question in Yankee fashion by asking one. 

 "I don't know that I do," responded the other. Then, as he bent over to examine the broken chest more closely, he corrected himself. 

 "Why, yes I do!" he cried eagerly.  "Isn't this the one you pointed out to me the other day as belonging to the man who fought with you against the Malays?" 

 "That's it," confirmed Tyke.  "It's Manuel Gomez's box. Queer," he went on reflectively, "that of all the chests there were in that loft the only one we thought of looking in should burst open at our very feet. If I was superstitious" (here Drew smothered a smile, for he knew that Tyke was nothing if not superstitious), "I might think there was some meaning in it. But of course," he added hastily, "we know there isn't." 

 "Of course," acquiesced the younger man. 

 Tyke seemed rather disappointed at this ready assent. 

 "Well, anyway, now that it has opened right under our noses, so to 

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