The Man Who Kept His Money In A Box | Page 6

those sort of things you must wear them."
As I was not myself possessed of anything of that sort, and had no
intention of going to any foreign court, I could not argue the matter
with her. But I assisted her in getting together an enormous pile of
luggage, among which there were seven large boxes covered with
canvas, such as ladies not uncommonly carry with them when
travelling. That one which she represented as being smaller than the
others, and as holding jewellery, might be about a yard long by a foot
and a half deep. Being ignorant in those matters, I should have thought
it sufficient to carry all a lady's wardrobe for twelve months. When the
boxes were collected together, she sat down upon the jewel-case and
looked up into my face. She was a pretty woman, perhaps thirty years
of age, with long light yellow hair, which she allowed to escape from
her bonnet, knowing, perhaps, that it was not unbecoming to her when
thus dishevelled. Her skin was very delicate, and her complexion good.
Indeed her face would have been altogether prepossessing had there not
been a want of gentleness in her eyes. Her hands, too, were soft and

small, and on the whole she may be said to have been possessed of a
strong battery of feminine attractions. She also well knew how to use
them.
"Whisper," she said to me, with a peculiar but very proper aspiration on
the h--"Wh-hisper," and both by the aspiration and the use of the word I
knew at once from what island she had come. "Mr. Greene keeps all his
money in this box also; so I never let it go out of my sight for a
moment. But whatever you do, don't tell him that I told you so."
I laid my hand on my heart, and made a solemn asseveration that I
would not divulge her secret. I need not, however, have troubled myself
much on that head, for as I walked up stairs, keeping my eye upon the
precious trunk, Mr. Greene addressed me.
"You are an Englishman, Mr. Robinson," said he. I acknowledged that I
was.
"I am another. My wife, however, is Irish. My daughter,--by a former
marriage,--is English also. You see that box there."
"Oh, yes," said I, "I see it." I began to be so fascinated by the box that I
could not keep my eyes off it.
"I don't know whether or no it is prudent, but I keep all my money there;
my money for travelling, I mean."
"If I were you, then," I answered, "I would not say anything about it to
any one."
"Oh, no, of course not," said he; "I should not think of mentioning it.
But those brigands in Italy always take away what you have about your
person, but they don't meddle with the heavy luggage."
"Bills of exchange, or circular notes," I suggested.
"Ah, yes; and if you can't identify yourself, or happen to have a
headache, you can't get them changed. I asked an old friend of mine,
who has been connected with the Bank of England for the last fifty
years, and he assured me that there was nothing like sovereigns."
"But you never get the value for them."
"Well, not quite. One loses a franc, or a franc and a half. But still,
there's the certainty, and that's the great matter. An English sovereign
will go anywhere," and he spoke these words with considerable
triumph.
"Undoubtedly, if you consent to lose a shilling on each sovereign."
"At any rate, I have got three hundred and fifty in that box," he said. "I

have them done up in rolls of twenty-five pounds each."
I again recommended him to keep this arrangement of his as private as
possible,--a piece of counsel which I confess seemed to me to be much
needed,--and then I went away to my own room, having first accepted
an invitation from Mrs. Greene to join their party at dinner. "Do," said
she; "we have been so dull, and it will be so pleasant."
I did not require to be much pressed to join myself to a party in which
there was so pretty a girl as Miss Greene, and so attractive a woman as
Mrs. Greene. I therefore accepted the invitation readily, and went away
to make my toilet. As I did so I passed the door of Mr. Greene's room,
and saw the long file of boxes being borne into the centre of it.
I spent a pleasant evening, with, however, one or two slight drawbacks.
As to old Greene himself, he was all that was amiable; but then he was
nervous, full of cares, and somewhat apt to be a bore. He wanted
information on a thousand