He struck his repeater, it was only one o'clock, so he
tried to go to sleep again, but failed utterly. Never had he been more
painfully awake.
For an hour or more Alan persevered, then at last in despair he jumped
out of bed wondering what he could do to occupy his mind. Suddenly he
remembered the diary of his uncle, the Rev. Mr. Austin, which he had
inherited with the Yellow God and a few other possessions, but never
examined. They had been put away in a box in the library about fifteen
years before, just at the time he entered the army, and there doubtless
they remained. Well, as he could not sleep, why should he not examine
them now, and thus get through some of this weary night?
He lit a candle and went down to the library, an ancient and beautiful
apartment with black oak panelling between the bookcases, set there in
the time of Elizabeth. In this panelling there were cupboards, and in
one of the cupboards was the box he sought, made of teak wood. On its
lid was painted, "The Reverend Henry Austin. Passenger to Acra," showing
that it had once been his uncle's cabin box. The key hung from the
handle, and having lit more candles, Alan drew it out and unlocked it,
to be greeted by a smell of musty documents done up in great bundles.
Pages:
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