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I pretended I did.

“And when this chap married ‘er sister–‘im and me was great friends–what must ‘e do but arst me down to Colchester, close by where She lived. Naturally I was introjuced to ‘er people, and well, very soon, her and me was engaged.”

He repeated “engaged.”

“She lived at ‘ome with ‘er father and mother, quite the lady, in a very nice little ‘ouse with a garden–and remarkable respectable people they was. Rich you might call ’em a’most. They owned their own ‘ouse–got it out of the Building Society, and cheap because the chap who had it before was a burglar and in prison–and they ‘ad a bit of free’old land, and some cottages and money ‘nvested–all nice and tight: they was what you’d call snug and warm. I tell you, I was On. Furniture too. Why! They ‘ad a pianner. Jane–‘er name was Jane–used to play it Sundays, and very nice she played too. There wasn’t ‘ardly a ‘im toon in the book she COULDN’T play . . .

“Many’s the evenin’ we’ve met and sung ‘ims there, me and ‘er and the family.

“‘Er father was quite a leadin’ man in chapel. You should ha’ seen him Sundays, interruptin’ the minister and givin’ out ‘ims. He had gold spectacles, I remember, and used to look over ’em at you while he sang hearty–he was always great on singing ‘earty to the Lord– and when HE got out o’ toon ‘arf the people went after ‘im–always. ‘E was that sort of man. And to walk be’ind ‘im in ‘is nice black clo’es–‘is ‘at was a brimmer–made one regular proud to be engaged to such a father-in-law. And when the summer came I went down there and stopped a fortnight.

“Now, you know there was a sort of Itch,” said Mr. Brisher. “We wanted to marry, me and Jane did, and get things settled. But ‘E said I ‘ad to get a proper position first. Consequently there was a Itch. Consequently, when I went down there, I was anxious to show that I was a good useful sort of chap like. Show I could do pretty nearly everything like. See?”

I made a sympathetic noise.

“And down at the bottom of their garden was a bit of wild part like. So I says to ‘im, ‘Why don’t you ‘ave a rockery ‘ere?’ I says. ‘It ‘ud look nice.’

“‘Too much expense,’ he says.

“‘Not a penny,’ says I. ‘I’m a dab at rockeries. Lemme make you one.’ You see, I’d ‘elped my brother make a rockery in the beer garden be’ind ‘is tap, so I knew ‘ow to do it to rights. ‘Lemme make you one,’ I says. ‘It’s ‘olidays, but I’m that sort of chap, I ‘ate doing nothing,’ I says. ‘I’ll make you one to rights.’ And the long and the short of it was, he said I might.

“And that’s ‘ow I come on the treasure.”

“What treasure?” I asked.

“Why!” said Mr. Brisher, “the treasure I’m telling you about, what’s the reason why I never married.”

“What!–a treasure–dug up?”

“Yes–buried wealth–treasure trove. Come out of the ground. What I kept on saying–regular treasure. . . .” He looked at me with unusual disrespect.

“It wasn’t more than a foot deep, not the top of it,” he said. “I’d ‘ardly got thirsty like, before I come on the corner.”

“Go on,” I said. “I didn’t understand.”

“Why! Directly I ‘it the box I knew it was treasure. A sort of instinct told me. Something seemed to shout inside of me–‘Now’s your chance– lie low.’ It’s lucky I knew the laws of treasure trove or I’d ‘ave been shoutin’ there and then. I daresay you know–“

“Crown bags it,” I said, “all but one per cent. Go on. It’s a shame. What did you do?”

“Uncovered the top of the box. There wasn’t anybody in the garden or about like. Jane was ‘elping ‘er mother do the ‘ouse. I WAS excited–I tell you. I tried the lock and then gave a whack at the hinges. Open it came. Silver coins–full! Shining. It made me tremble to see ’em. And jest then–I’m blessed if the dustman didn’t come round the back of the ‘ouse. It pretty nearly gave me ‘eart disease to think what a fool I was to ‘ave that money showing. And directly after I ‘eard the chap next door–‘e was ‘olidaying, too– I ‘eard him watering ‘is beans. If only ‘e’d looked over the fence!”