the right-hand side made Cyril wonder what it could be, for it was
too low to be the beginning of another passage.

So he knelt down and lit a match, and stooping very low he peeped
in.

'There's SOMETHING,' he said, and reached out his hand. It touched
something that felt more like a damp bag of marbles than anything
else that Cyril had ever touched.

'I believe it IS a buried treasure,' he cried.

And it was; for even as Anthea cried, 'Oh, hurry up,
Squirrel--fetch it out!' Cyril pulled out a rotting canvas
bag--about as big as the paper ones the greengrocer gives you with
Barcelona nuts in for sixpence.

'There's more of it, a lot more,' he said.

As he pulled the rotten bag gave way, and the gold coins ran and
span and jumped and bumped and chinked and clinked on the floor of
the dark passage.

I wonder what you would say if you suddenly came upon a buried
treasure? What Cyril said was, 'Oh, bother--I've burnt my
fingers!' and as he spoke he dropped the match. 'AND IT WAS THE LAST!'
he added.

There was a moment of desperate silence. Then Jane began to cry.