I could even see the page
upon which his eyes were riveted. It was an advertisement for
breakfast food. In my indignation the spade slipped through my
cramped and perspiring fingers, and as it struck the bottom of the
pit, something --a band of iron, a steel lock, an iron ring-- gave
forth a muffled sound. My heart stopped beating as suddenly as
though Mr. Corbett had hit it with his closed fist. My blood turned
to melted ice. I drove the spade down as fiercely as though it was
a dagger. It sank into rotten wood. I had made no sound; for I
could hardly breathe. But the slight noise of the blow had reached
Edgar. I heard the springs of the hack creak as he vaulted from it,
and the next moment he was towering above me, peering down into the
pit. His eyes were wide with excitement, greed, and fear. In his
hands he clutched the two suit-cases. Like a lion defending his
cubs he glared at me.
"Get out!" he shouted.
"Like hell!" I said.
"Get out!" he roared. "I'll do the rest.
That's mine, not yours! GET OUT!"
With a swift kick I brushed away the sand. I found I was standing
on a squat wooden box, bound with bands of rusty iron. I had only
to stoop to touch it. It was so rotten that I could have torn it
apart with my bare hands. Edgar was dancing on the edge of the pit,
incidentally kicking sand into my mouth and nostrils.
"You PROMISED me!" he roared. "You PROMISED to obey me!"
"You ass!" I shouted.
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