The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More(27)

        ‘That’s right,’ Ford said. ‘It’s pewter.’

        ‘You know what this is?’ Fawcett said, his voice going high with excitement. ‘Shall I tell you what this really is?’

        ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Ford said, truculent. ‘I know what it is. It’s old pewter. And quite nice, too.’

        Fawcett was reading the inscription in Roman letters on the scoop of the spoon. ‘Papittedo!’ he cried.

        ‘What’s that mean?’ Ford asked him.

        Fawcett picked up the other spoon. ‘Pascentia,’ he said. ‘Beautiful! These are the names of Roman children! And these spoons, my friend, are made of solid silver! Solid Roman silver!’

        ‘Not possible,’ Ford said.

        ‘They’re magnificent!’ Fawcett cried out, going into raptures. ‘They’re perfect! They’re unbelievable! Where on earth did you find them? It’s most important to know where you found them! Was there anything else?’ Fawcett was hopping about all over the room.

        ‘Well …’ Ford said, licking dry lips.

        ‘You must report them at once!’ Fawcett cried.

        ‘They’re Treasure Trove! The British Museum is going to want these and that’s for certain! How long have you had them?’

        ‘Just a little while,’ Ford told him.

        ‘And who found them?’ Fawcett asked, looking straight at him. ‘Did you find them yourself or did you get them from somebody else? This is vital! The finder will be able to tell us all about it!’

        Ford felt the walls of the room closing in on him and he didn’t quite know what to do.

        ‘Come on, man! Surely you know where you got them! Every detail will have to come out when you hand them in. Promise me you’ll go to the police with them at once?’

        ‘Well …’ Ford said.

        ‘If you don’t, then I’m afraid I shall be forced to report it myself,’ Fawcett told him. ‘It’s my duty.’

        The game was up now and Ford knew it. A thousand questions would be asked. How did you find it? When did you find it? What were you doing? Where was the exact spot? Whose land were you ploughing? And sooner or later, inevitably, the name of Gordon Butcher would have to come into it. It was unavoidable. And then, when Butcher was questioned, he would remember the size of the hoard and tell them all about it.

        So the game was up. And the only thing to do at this point was to unlock the doors of the big sideboard and show the entire hoard to Dr Fawcett.

        Ford’s excuse for keeping it all and not turning it in would have to be that he thought it was pewter. So long as he stuck to that, he told himself, they couldn’t do anything to him.

        Dr Fawcett would probably have a heart-attack when he saw what there was in that cupboard.

        ‘There is actually quite a bit more of it,’ Ford said.

        ‘Where?’ cried Fawcett, spinning round. ‘Where, man, where? Lead me to it!’

        ‘I really thought it was pewter,’ Ford said, moving slowly and very reluctantly forward to the oak sideboard. ‘Otherwise I would naturally have reported it at once.’

        He bent down and unlocked the lower doors of the sideboard. He opened the doors.

        And then Dr Hugh Alderson Fawcett very nearly did have a heart-attack. He flung himself on his knees. He gasped. He choked. He began spluttering like an old kettle. He reached out for the great silver dish. He took it. He held it in shaking hands and his face went as white as snow. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He was literally and physically and mentally struck absolutely dumb by the sight of the treasure.

        The interesting part of the story ends here. The rest is routine. Ford went to Mildenhall Police Station and made a report. The police came at once and collected all thirty-four pieces, and they were sent under guard to the British Museum for examination.