Her first question was typical of her mind, it went straight to the crux of the whole matter.
“But why can’t you get the Book?” she asked.
“Because I can’t get at it. The infernal American has put a cordon of troops around the Palace, so that it’s impossible to pass at night without declaring myself; Moore occupies the library; and finally the combination on the vault has been changed.”
“Isn’t it absurd?” said she; “the Book actually in its place and yet lost.”—She sat up sharply. “Do you really want it, Ferdinand?—because, if you do, may be I can help you.”
“Assuredly I want it. If the decree is against me, we will destroy the Book and go on with our game.”
“Then, dear, let us go after it—and now, now! The Regent is absent, hence less vigilance in the Palace; Moore is with her, hence the library is deserted; it should be easy for you to get us in it by day and unsuspected.”
“And having blown open the vault, be caught in the act,” he smiled.
“That is where I come in, dear; I will engage to open it, noiselessly, and in less than fifteen minutes, too.”
“Is it possible that you are one of those wonder workers who can feel a combination?”
“Yes,” said she, “though I’ve not tried it for years.”