Mr. Sutherland cast a look toward the dead woman, and again the perfect serenity of her countenance struck him.
"I do not know whether to regard her as the victim of her husband's imbecility or of some vile robber's cupidity. Can you find the key to the other drawer?"
"I will try."
"Suppose you begin, then, by looking on her person. It should be in her pocket, if no marauder has been here."
"It is not in her pocket."
"Hanging to her neck, then, by a string?"
"No; there is a locket here, but no key. A very handsome locket, Mr.
Sutherland, with a child's lock of golden hair—"
"Never mind, we will see that later; it is the key we want just now."
"Good heavens!"
"What is it?"