The others thought over the idea.
"It might be worth trying," said Julian.
"The only thing is— it might break or spoil anything inside the box." But there didn't seem any other way to open the box, so Julian carried it up to the top of the house.
He went to the attic and opened the window there.
The others were down below, waiting.
Julian hurled the box out of the window as violently as he could. It flew through the air and landed with a terrific crash on the crazy paving below.
At once the french window there opened and their Uncle Quentin came out like a bullet from a gun.
"Whatever are you doing?" he cried.
"Surely you aren't throwing things at each other out of the window?
What's this on the ground?"
The children looked at the box.
It had burst open, and lay on the ground, showing a tin lining that was waterproof. Whatever was in the box would not be spoilt! It would be quite dry!
Dick ran to pick it up.
"I said, what's this on the ground?" shouted his uncle and moved towards him.
"It's— it's something that belongs to us," said Dick, going red.
"Well, I shall take it away from you," said his uncle.
"Disturbing me like this!
Give it to me.
Where did you get it?"
Nobody answered.
Uncle Quentin frowned till his glasses nearly fell off.
"Where did you get it?" he barked, glaring at poor Anne, who was nearest.
"Out of the wreck," stammered the little girl, scared.
"Out of the wreck!" said her uncle, in surprise.
"The old wreck that was thrown up yesterday?
I heard about that.
Do you mean to say you've been in it?"
"Yes," said Dick.
Julian joined them at that moment, looking worried.
It would be too awful if his uncle took the box just as they got it open.
But that was exactly what he did do!
"Well, this box may contain something important," he said, and he took it from Dick's hands.
"You've no right to go prying about in that old wreck. You might take something that mattered."
"Well, it's my wreck," said George, in a defiant tone.
"Please, Father, let us have the box.
We'd just got it opened.
We thought it might hold— a gold bar— or something like that!"
"A gold bar!" said her father, with a snort.
"What a baby you are!
This small box would never hold a thing like that!
It's much more likely to contain particulars of what happened to the bars!
I have always thought that the gold was safely delivered somewhere— and that the ship, empty of its valuable cargo, got wrecked as it left the bay!"
"Oh, Father— please, please let us have our box," begged George, almost in tears.
She suddenly felt certain that it did contain papers that might tell them what had happened to the gold.
But without another word her father turned and went into the house, carrying the box, burst open and cracked, its tin lining showing through under his arm.
Anne burst into tears.
"Don't blame me for telling him we got it from the wreck," she sobbed. "Please don't.
He glared at me so.
I just had to tell him."
"All right, Baby," said Julian, putting his arm round Anne. He looked furious.