The corner arch at the further
end was the one mentioned in the papers, and Rosmore went slowly across
the stone floor, the feeble light of the candle casting weird shadows
about him. For the first time the eeriness of the place forced itself
upon him. These stone walls must have sheltered many a secret besides
the one he had come to solve. Unholy deeds might well have happened
here, and into his memory came crowding many a legend he had heard of
Aylingford Abbey. Phantoms of the past might yet haunt these dark
places, and to the man breaking into this silence alone ghosts were easy
to believe in. Phantoms of the present might be there, too, for to-day
vice was the ruling spirit of the Abbey, and there were those who
declared that evil might take shape and in an appointed hour deal out
punishment to its votaries.
Rosmore found an effort necessary to retain his courage as he went
towards the opposite corner. The light, held above his head, fell
quivering into the recess there, and touched a great oak coffer,
massively made, and heavily bound with iron. It was exactly as the
papers said, and therein lay the treasure, gold and jewels--the wealth
of the Indies, as the writing called it.
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