Bidding George stay
in the vault with the treasure, which he was with difficulty persuaded
to do, he climbed the improvised rope ladder, and got in safety
through the hole. In his excitement he had forgotten about the summer-
house having been carried away by the gale, which was still blowing,
though not with so much fury as before. The wind-swept desolation that
met his view as he emerged into the dawning light broke upon him with
a shock. The summer-house was clean gone, nothing but a few uprights
remained of it; and fifty yards away he thought he could make out the
crumpled shape of the roof. Nor was that all. Quite a quarter of the
great oaks which were the glory of the place were down, or splintered
and ruined.
But what did he care for the summer-house or the oaks now? Forgetting
his exhaustion, he ran down the slope and reached the house, which he
entered as softly as he could by the side door. Nobody was about yet,
or would be for another hour. It was Christmas Day, and not a pleasant
morning to get up on, so the servants would be sure to lie a-bed. On
his way to his bed-room he peeped into the dining-room, where he had
fallen asleep on the previous evening. When he had woke up, it may be
remembered, he lit a candle. This candle was now flaring itself to
death, for he had forgotten to extinguish it, and by its side lay the
paper from which he had made the great discovery.
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