A hole is excavated beneath the tile you name, and sure enough, a small chest is found with a plaque on it that reads: “Herein lies my greatest and only treasure.”
“Well, I guess you ain’t a crook after all,” announces the sheriff. He uncuffs you as the heirs open the chest.
Inside are four dainty musicians dressed in royal clothing, busily engaged at the violin, bass fiddle, clarinet, and cello. A thin harmony fills the air. You look at the banner strung from the top of the chest’s lid: “The Queen’s Quartet.”
The heirs stand dumbfounded for a second, then start shouting. “You did take it! This isn’t the treasure! Sheriff—”
The sheriff escorts you outside again. “Best get a move on,” he counsels. “I’ll see that they leave you alone. But remember what caused all this trouble. Remember: queen quartet.”
