Just what we had expected to discover in the casket would have been hard to have said. One thing was true, three very surprised men stood looking silently at the rows of small tins within the box. Though there were not so very many, yet it seemed to be the purest kind of opium; and that meant they were worth a good deal of money. And then Ranville gave a long low whistle and turned to Bartley:
“A bit odd this. Never expected to find anything like it when we came here.”
Bartley shook his head, his eyes gravely studying the rows of tins. Then he went over to the two other stands and returned to the great desk with the two caskets under his arms. Without a word he started to pick the locks of these, and after the same difficulty which he had with the first one opened them. When they were opened, there was another surprise for us. These two boxes were empty; they contained nothing, not even a piece of rice paper.
Ranville, after a little start of surprise, seated himself in a chair by the desk and very carefully began to examine the three boxes. To me they seemed just alike—made from the same dark heavy wood with the similar carvings. But he turned them on one end and then another, looking them all over. On the first one, the one in which he had found the opium, he spent the slightest time. Then as though satisfied, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. For a moment he stood looking gravely at the three caskets upon the desk, then he said:
“That first box has a little mark on it that the others do not have.”
He picked it up and showed us a narrow line which ran across the feet of two of the dragons. The dragons' tails made the legs upon which the casket stood, and all three boxes were similar—similar save for the one respect; as he pointed out to us, the first box we had opened—the one containing the opium—had the line etched deeply across two of the dragons' legs, the other boxes did not have a mark.
He pointed it out to us, and Bartley shot a questioning look at his face and then slowly nodded. Their eyes met, and Ranville after another glance at the three boxes explained:
“I don't know much about this chap Warren, but I am a bit sure that there is one thing we can agree upon. It is: he never knew what was in that casket.”
“Then why did he have it in his library?” I shot out.
“That is what we do not know,” came the reply. “But it is absurd to think that a man of his wealth and his position would be engaged in smuggling opium.”