“By George!” he muttered, after glancing back at where Gartram lay, perfectly insensible to what went on around him. “Monte Christo, and—”
He paused, and looked stealthily about, feeling giddy the while, as a great temptation assailed him, making him turn pale.
But he mastered the feeling directly, and after a moments thought swept the money back into the receptacle, and carried it and the book to the safe.
“Poor old chap!” he thought. “I needn’t stoop to steal when he is so ready to give it all.”
He closed the door quickly, and locked it, then drew back and grasped the idea of how it was hidden directly, turning the great panel of the bookcase on its pivot, and closing in the iron door.
He had just finished this and relocked the place, which he was able to do after a little puzzling, when he saw that the fit was growing more severe, and at the same time noted the open drawer in the table.
“Keep the keys there,” he said to himself, as he replaced them and closed the drawer. “There, that’s what he would have wished his son-in-law elect to do for him, so now for help.”
He bent over Gartram for a moment, and shrank slightly from the distorted face and rolling eyes. Then, going to the door, he turned the handle.
“Locked!” he exclaimed, “to keep out interruption and prying eyes. Well, old fellow, I am in your secret, and know the open sesame of the golden cave, so we shall see.”
He turned the key, threw open the door, and hurried into the hall, but ran back directly, and, glancing at Gartram as he did so, pulled the bell sharply.