It was left to me as I will leave it to you, and
in the meantime you may come and go as you choose and fill your
pockets whenever you wish to. But there is one thing you must not
do: you must never open that door yonder at the back of the room.
Should you do so, Ill-Luck will be sure to overtake you."
Oh no! The Fiddler would never think of doing such a thing as
opening the door. The silver and gold and jewels were enough for
him. But since the old man had given him leave, he would just
help himself to a few of the fine things. So he stuffed his
pockets full, and then he followed the old man up the steps and
out into the sunlight again.
It took him maybe an hour to count all the money and jewels he
had brought up with him. After he had done that, he began to
wonder what was inside of the little door at the back of the
room. First he wondered; then he began to grow curious; then he
began to itch and tingle and burn as though fifty thousand
I-want-to-know nettles were sticking into him from top to toe. At
last he could stand it no longer. "I'll just go down yonder,"
says he, "and peep through the key-hole; perhaps I can see what
is there without opening the door."
So down he took the key, and off he marched to the garden. He
opened the trap-door, and went down the steep steps to the room
below. There was the door at the end of the room, but when he
came to look there was no key-hole to it.
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