He was weak, spoke quietly, and never managed to tell her the exact location.

At first, the widow thought she could forget about it. But with each passing day, the thought of treasures haunted her. And so, armed with a shovel, she began her search.

Pit after pit, flowerbed after flowerbed – but so far no glitter of gold, no antique coins. Only dark, damp earth, the smell of which now filled her house.

They say that she is still digging.

And no one knows – whether it is simply a thirst to find her husband’s legacy, or whether there is something else hidden under her garden that he never dared to tell her.