“So what is it?” Eileen demanded. “What did you find?”
Thomas placed his prizes on the anvil. They were not much to look at, even in the dim light of the coals and candle. The sack was coarse brown fabric, tied shut with a bit of old ribbon. The box was painted red, and held closed only by a small latch. The book was plain and leather-bound and wrapped shut with twine.
No one said anything or moved. Thomas was acutely aware that the man— the friend—who had valued these things enough to hide them away had been murdered. From the looks on their faces, George and Eileen felt the same way.
George moved first, picking up the little bag and jingling it. He opened the ribbon and poured a half-dozen coins into his hand. George stared at them a moment, shifting them back and forth across his pal
