"Have you the keys?" asked Blarden.
"Ay, dear me, to be sure I have, except the one that I gave to little Bat there, to let you in this minute. I have the three other keys; dear me—dear me—what could ail me?" And so saying, Chancey slapped the skirt of his coat slightly so as to make them jingle in his pocket.
"The windows are all fast and safe as the wall itself—screwed down," observed Blarden, "let's see the keys—show them here."
Chancey accordingly drew them from his pocket, and laid them on the table.
"There's the three of them," observed he, calmly.
"Have you no more?" inquired Blarden, looking rather aghast.
"No, indeed, the devil a one," replied Chancey, thrusting his arm to the elbow in his coat pocket.
"D—n me, but I think this is the key of the cellar," ejaculated Blarden, in a tone which energized even the apathetic lawyer, "come here, Ashwoode, what key's this?"
"It is the cellar key," said Ashwoode, in a faltering voice and turning very pale.
"Try your pockets for another, and find it, or ——." The aposiopesis was alarming, and Blarden's direction was obeyed instantaneously.