“Indeed! You seem to be suggesting—”
At this moment, the baron was interrupted by a sort of scratching upon the outside of one of the doors of the cabinet.
“Wait here for me,” he said to Massarelli, and went out into another room.
Guido now rapidly reviewed the situation. He was terrified by the baron’s calmness, and began to think that correspondence would be a more prudent mode of transacting the business. Hoping to escape, he crossed the room, and tried the door by which he had entered. It was shut and latched by some secret device, which he could not detect, notwithstanding a certain degree of mechanical skill. He looked out of the window; it was eighty feet from the ground.
He noiselessly tried the door by which the baron had gone out; it was as close shut as the other. The desk stood open, and within it was visible a delectable assemblage of rouleaux of gold.
“Ah!” said Massarelli to himself, with a sigh; “the doors must needs be strong, and the locks good, if they trust me here alone with all those bright pieces.”
His position began to seem to him serious, and even alarming. He listened, hoping to catch what was said in the next room, but could not distinguish a single word. However, we shall take the liberty of reporting the conversation that was held there:
“Well, Johan,” said the baron, “did you succeed? Did you see this Waldo’s face?”
“Yes, your lordship. He is not yesterday’s man; he is a monster.”
“Worse looking than you?”