We rested until two, and had supper; starting for
      the hills immediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks,
      which, by good luck, were upon the premises. A little before four
      we arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as
      equally as might be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled,
      again set out for the hut, at which, for the second time, we
      deposited our golden burthens, just as the first faint streaks of
      the dawn gleamed from over the tree-tops in the East. We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of
      the time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three
      or four hours’ duration, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make
      examination of our treasure. The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day,
      and the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its
      contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement. Every
      thing had been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with
      care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we
      had at first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four
      hundred and fifty thousand dollars—estimating the value of the
      pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of the period. There was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date
      and of great variety—French, Spanish, and German money, with a
      few English guineas, and some counters, of which we had never
      seen specimens before. There were several very large and heavy
      coins, so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. There was no American money. The value of the jewels we found
      more difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds—some of them
      exceedingly large and fine—a hundred and ten in all, and not one
      of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy;—three
      hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one
      sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken from
      their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings
      themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold,
      appeared to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent
      identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of
      solid gold ornaments; nearly two hundred massive finger and
      earrings; rich chains—thirty of these, if I remember;
      eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes; five gold censers
      of great value; a prodigious golden punch bowl, ornamented with
      richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two
      sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller
      articles which I cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables
      exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in this
      estimate I have not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb
      gold watches; three of the number being worth each five hundred
      dollars, if one. Many of them were very old, and as timekeepers
      valueless; the works having suffered, more or less, from
      corrosion—but all were richly jewelled and in cases of great
      worth. We estimated the entire contents of the chest, that night,
      at a million and a half of dollars; and upon the subsequent
      disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being retained for our
      own use), it was found that we had greatly undervalued the
      treasure. When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the
      intense excitement of the time had, in some measure, subsided,
      Legrand, who saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution
      of this most extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of
      all the circumstances connected with it. “You remember;” said he, “the night when I handed you the rough
      sketch I had made of the _scarabæus_. You recollect also, that I
      became quite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled
      a death’s-head. When you first made this assertion I thought you
      were jesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots
      on the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that your
      remark had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my
      graphic powers irritated me—for I am considered a good
      artist—and, therefore, when you handed me the scrap of parchment,
      I was about to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire.”

      “The scrap of paper, you mean,” said I. “No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I
      supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I
      discovered it, at once, to be a piece of very thin parchment. It
      was quite dirty, you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of
      crumpling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had
      been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment when I
      perceived, in fact, the figure of a death’s-head just where, it
      seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment
      I was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my
      design was very different in detail from this—although there was
      a certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a
      candle, and seating myself at the other end of the room,
      proceeded to scrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning
      it over, I saw my own sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made
      it. My first idea, now, was mere surprise at the really
      remarkable similarity of outline—at the singular coincidence
      involved in the fact, that unknown to me, there should have been
      a skull upon the other side of the parchment, immediately beneath
      my figure of the _scarabæus_, and that this skull, not only in
      outline, but in size, should so closely resemble my drawing. I
      say the singularity of this coincidence absolutely stupefied me
      for a time. This is the usual effect of such coincidences. The
      mind struggles to establish a connexion—a sequence of cause and
      effect—and, being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary
      paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, there dawned
      upon me gradually a conviction which startled me even far more
      than the coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remember
      that there had been no drawing upon the parchment when I made my
      sketch of the _scarabæus_. I became perfectly certain of this;
      for I recollected turning up first one side and then the other,
      in search of the cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of
      course I could not have failed to notice it.