“Rather strange that the Colonel should have given you a set,” said Artis.
“No more strange than that a gentleman should trust a banker,” said Capel.
“What, going to side with the lawyer?”
Capel made no reply, only gazed searchingly at the old executor.
“There may have been other keys, Mr Girtle.”
“Oh, no. The place was made some years ago, for a sarcophagus, and the makers never imagined that it would be used for a safe.”
There was a dead silence.
“Let us search again. The cases may have slipped aside.”
“It is impossible,” said the old lawyer; and as they two passed into the iron chamber, Artis exchanged a glance with Katrine, while the old butler stood looking dazed.
“You see,” said Mr Girtle, holding down the light, “there is nowhere for the cases to have slipped; all is of plain, solid steel, without a corner or crack.”