There was once a craftsman, who lived in a small town in France. This man had a wife, and a good home, which could be paid for because of his great craftmanship skills. He made his wife and his own wedding rings, using a single jewel which he cut in two to place in them.
One day, he wanted to make a chest. So he started. He wanted it to be the greatest he'd made before. He worked day and night on this chest. Forging it from the finest materials he could find. After months, his wife became worried and, eventually, mad, leaving the man with her ring.
He could be heard, day or night, whispering to himself in his shop, working on his chest, it never being perfect. Even using the Jewel on his wife's ring to put over the clasp of the chest. One day, sure he was close to finishing his greatest work, officials of the French Army came to draft the man to aid in the current war. He refused, saying how he must finish his precious chest, unable to leave it there. They shot him on the spot, his blood covering the jewel on both the chest, and his ring.
The chest was later taken, pilvaged from the house, along with a few other expensive looking things, and brought to America where the thieves believed they would be safe with their treasure.
The treasure was split evenly, everyone going off with their own. One man, with the chest. He bought a home, settled down, and made friends in his new life. Everyone in his neighborhood knew and appreciated him. One day, cleaning his attic, he came across an old, but very new looking, chest. He had never opened the chest, being too busy with his job in America, but now, he couldn't help himself. He unlatched the clasp and opened it. The chest was empty, so he put it downstairs to be used.
For months after, whispers were heard in the house, being put off as "the pipes" or "a mouse" and never being really looked at. One day, when the man's house maid came to wake him, she found his bed empty, and could not find him. The man was never seen again.