“Stenson,” said the lawyer, with the energy of genuine sincerity, as he took both the old man’s hands in his, “I tell you again, some oppressive secret is weighing upon you. Open your heart to me as a friend. You may rely upon me, if there is an injustice to be made good.”
Stenson hesitated for some moments; then, taking a key from his pocket, he opened, in an agitated manner, a drawer of his desk, and, showing M. Goefle a small sealed box, he said:
“Your word of honor?”
“I give it you!”
“And upon the holy Bible?”
“Upon the holy Bible—now then?—”
“Well, then, if I die before him, open, read, and act. But only after I am dead.”
M. Goefle glanced at the box, and saw his own name and address upon it.
“You had already chosen me for this trust,” he said; “I thank you for it, my friend, but, if your life is threatened, why not tell me the whole at once? There, dear M. Stenson, I am beginning to open my eyes! The baron—”
Stenson made a sign that he would not answer.