THE MOORISH GOLD.
tain was always present to his imagination, and the thought of the treasure lying there, with nothing but a little bird to watch it, filled him with a secret, sordid joy; it should be all his own—no other living man should touch one penny of it: poor Richard!
He went to an inn, ordered a good dinner and a bottle of wine. Alas! he was not used to port wine, and he thought as he paid for all, he would drink all. He did so, and the next day a racking headache made him glad to lie in bed till noon. He staid at that place another night, and, unhappily for him, repeated the folly of the previous one. It was not till the fourth day from his leaving B——— that he reached the end of his journey, and stepping out of a post-chaise found himself at the foot of the well-remembered Cumberland mountains.
He sauntered to the shore of the lake, and began to hurrah! with irrepressible exultation. He thought himself alone, but a dry cough behind him, and a finger laid on his shoulder, undeceived him. He turned round hastily, and beheld two policemen.
'What's your business, fellows?' he exclaimed, half angry, half afraid.
'You're our business,' was the reply. 'There's been a theft; you must come back with us to B———.'
'It's a lie, a base lie; it's a cruel lie,' cried Richard, frantically; 'there was no theft in the matter, the coin was my own.'
'Indeed! Well, young man, you needn't criminate yourself; how do you know we came after you about a coin?—it's no use stamping, nor crying either, you must come.'
