If sleep should come and without dreams, it would be greater gain than bags of gold.

As he took off his coat, the letter of the English captain dropped from his breast.

Until then he had forgotten it, but now he remembered it as a sacred trust.

The dull light of the lantern barely enabled him to discern objects about him, but he stuck the letter into a crack in the woodwork where in the morning he would see it and take proper care of it.
Soon sleep came, but not without dreams.

He dreamed that he was rowing Kate on the river at Bridgetown, and that she told him in a low sweet voice, with a smile on her lips and her eyes tenderly upturned, that she would like to row thus with him forever.
Early in the morning, through an open port-hole, the light of the eastern sun stole into this abode of darkness and sin and threw itself upon the red-stained letter sticking in the crack of the woodwork.
Presently Dickory opened his eyes, and the first thing they fell upon was that letter.