Blinking several times, Austin stares at me, then at the floor, then out the window. “If you really want to give it all up just like that, fine. I always say God helps those who help themselves, but it looks like you disagree. I hope you find whatever good feeling you’re looking for.” He pushes the door open, stands, and walks away without a backward glance.
Now, both Austin and I stare at the floor, unsure of what to do. The servants and Mr. Hawksley stand wordlessly, looking us up and down.
Finally, the old man speaks. “You want to see the treasure? Come with me.” My head darts up. Is it really that easy? Is he about to hand us the information we’ve been seeking this whole time? He smiles like he’s part of an inside joke. “You’re welcome to take it if you can.”
The room we stumbled upon appears to be a common room, filled with a few plush chairs and lit by a burning hearth. On those plush chairs sit three servants. They were engaged in conversation, but stopped as soon as I entered. All three heads swivel toward me. “Who are you?” one young man says.
A hall of dirt, supported by wooden beams on the side, stretches a dozen yards forward and fades into darkness. Dust dances in the light and a stream of dirt floats from the ceiling as a support beam groans. I look at Austin and we both nod. And we trudge forward to meet whatever awaits us.