"Upon my word," said the Squire when he had done, "I think I am
beginning to grow superstitious in my old age. Hang me if I don't
believe it was the finger of Providence itself that pointed out those
letters to you. Anyway, I'm off to see the spoil. Run and get your
hat, Ida, my dear, and we will all go together."
And they went and looked at the chest full of red gold, yes, and
passed down, all three of them, into those chill presences in the
bowels of the Mount. Then coming thence awed and silent they sealed up
the place for ever.
CONCLUSION
GOOD-BYE
On the following morning such of the inhabitants of Boisingham as
chanced to be about were much interested to see an ordinary farm
tumbrel coming down the main street. It was being driven, or rather
led, by no less a person than George himself, while behind it walked
the well-known form of the old Squire, arm-in-arm with Colonel
Quaritch.
They were still more interested, however, when the tumbrel drew up at
the door of the bank--not Cossey's, but the opposition bank--where,
although it was Boxing Day, the manager and the clerk were apparently
waiting for its arrival.
But their interest culminated when they perceived that the cart only
contained a few bags, and yet that each of these bags seemed to
require three or four men to lift it with any comfort.
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