With tears of excitement in his eyes, he took the box and placed it in the hands of the marquis. Miss Yvonne, sobbing quietly in the intensity of her relief, sat down on a small packing-case and hid her face in her hands. The three girls, understanding something of this strange discovery, stood by, breathless in their excitement and interest. Only Louis, to whom the whole proceeding was a dark mystery, stared at them all, open-mouthed and questioning.
Monsieur took the box and placed it in Louis's hands.
"Can you open it for us?" he asked. "I suppose we might find the key, if we hunted long enough, but I cannot wait for that. Open it without a key, if that is possible."
"I suppose I could get it open with an ax," remarked Louis, examining the box carefully, "or even with a hammer and chisel, if you're not afraid that the contents may be hurt."
"It will not harm it, I am sure," replied Monsieur, and Louis brought the necessary tools.
It took a long while to break the lock, for the workmanship was stout and strong. But at last this was accomplished, and Louis handed the box to Monsieur for further investigation. They all pressed around him eagerly, as he opened the lid. It contained nothing but a paper, folded, tied, and sealed—a paper so faded, stained, and tender that they scarcely dared touch it, lest it fall apart. Monsieur took it out with extreme care, broke the seal, and handed the unread document to Louis.
"Read it," he said. "It concerns you, and you alone. It is your right to have the first reading of it. It is a sacred message, transmitted to you through the years by your great-grandfather, the lost dauphin."
"Shall I read it aloud?" inquired Louis, in a voice of hushed awe.
"If it pleases you to do so," replied the marquis.