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Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916

"My Buried Treasure"

The door is fastened," I
pointed out ingratiatingly, it and this train doesn't stop for
another forty minutes. I think this would be an excellent time to
look at the treasure." "I don't!" said Edgar.
I sank back into my chair. With intense enjoyment I imagined the
train in which we were seated hurling itself into another train;
and everybody, including Edgar, or, rather, especially Edgar, being
instantly but painlessly killed. By such an act of an all-wise
Providence I would at once become heir to one million dollars. It
was a beautiful, satisfying dream. Even MY conscience accepted it
with a smug smile. It was so vivid a dream that I sat guiltily
expectant, waiting for the crash to come, for the shrieks and
screams, for the rush of escaping steam and breaking window-panes.
But it was far too good to be true. Without a jar the train carried
us and its precious burden in safety to the Jersey City terminal.
And each, with half a million dollars in his hand, hurried to the
ferry, assailed by porters, news-boys, hackmen. To them we were a
couple of commuters saving a dime by carrying our own hand-bags.
It was now six o'clock, and I pointed out to Edgar that at that
hour the only vaults open were those of the Night and Day Bank. And
to that institution in a taxicab we at once made our way. I paid
the chauffeur, and two minutes later, with a gasp of relief and
rejoicing, I dropped the suit-case I had carried on a table in the
steel-walled fastnesses of the vaults.


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