Bearing the Chest gingerly in his foxish paws, Timothy peered out of the rear window of his house. The small, one-room shack next to it that served as his office was only a short run across the back lot. He could just see Saul and the rest going through the rubbish and salvage pile from the mansion. If he was fast enough...
Steeling himself, he opened the rear door to his ramshackle home and watched. His keen ears and nose helped him immeasurably and -as soon as he thought the coast was clear- he dashed across the lot!
His heart was pounding as he ran. His naked body -nevertheless- felt warm under the rich, vulpine coat he was wearing. It felt natural ... it felt good to be like this; running about in the open air like a fox would.
In only moments, he reached the office door. Pushing it open, he darted inside and closed it behind himself. Carefully, he listened. His sharp ears swivelled atop his head, focusing in on the distant sounds of the workers. While he couldn't make out distinct voices, the general tone was low ... unphased. No one appeared to have seen him.
He let out a sigh of relief and put the Chest down on his desk before going to the file cabinet and pulling out the records on the Haversome Mansion. Sitting down, Timothy started going through the file.
As he flipped through the pages, he idly rubbed his palm over his stomach fur. It was such a new sensation ... so good feeling! His sharp eyes scanned the pages as he read the background of the Haversome Mansion.
Apparantly, Douglas Haversome had been some sort of movie producer in the 1950's, made independantly wealthy and having only passed away about two months ago. He was -apparantly- involved in a whole host of arcane and mystic societies, as many of them had been beneficiaries of his will. His home had been stripped down -literally- by the groups he'd belonged to, with only the contents of that one truck representing the stuff that no one wanted...
Could it be that they'd overlooked this Chest?
Glancing at it, Timothy licked his lips with the thought of being the sole owner of something so strange ... so wonderful...
Curiosity seemed to well up in him as he looked over the small pile of five keys that went with the lock. Why not? Why not try another? Perhaps it was only a fluke the first time...
Picking up a key in his paws, he inserted it into the lock and found the corresponding button...