"Did Mr. Howell know anything about the will?"
"Yes, of course. I made him my heir to all which does not go to charities, and legacies, and suchlike. It is about £30,000. At first I had divided it equally between Sigrid, Einar, and him, but then—then—well I don't think it necessary to explain the rest; but then came this business, and I struck Sigrid's and Einar's names out."
"And he knew where you kept it?"
"Yes; a day or two before he left, I read it to him, here in the museum, and put it in the box, while he was looking."
Monk was all the time examining the box most carefully, and some time passed before he spoke.
"I thought as much!" he exclaimed, with his old genial smile. "Look here!"
We stooped down to see the better. He had turned the box over so that the side which had stood against the wall in the fire-proof room was uppermost. A number of artistically interwoven spirals were chased in the steel. With a penknife he scraped away the rust and dirt from one of them,—it was about five or six inches in diameter. A number of small, round spots could then be seen. He took a pin, placed its point on one of the spots, and pressed it, when, to our great surprise, the needle appeared to sink into the steel.
"Is there a hammer here?" He looked around, and his eye rested on an old axe from the bronze age. "That will do."
A strong blow in the centre of the circle—and to our great astonishment the round steel dial disappeared into the box.
"Well, hang it all!" shouted old Frick; "but how in all the world—?"