I remained silent, looking upon him curiously, but in deep sympathy.
Suddenly he held out his hand. Upon the little finger was an emerald ring, the stone appearing to be of no exceptional value. Indeed, the trinket was calculated to attract so little attention that I had barely noticed it before, although I remembered that my employer always wore it.
“This,” said he, abruptly, “is the key to the vault.”
I nodded. The truth had flashed upon me the moment Madam Izabel had struck the match. And now, looking at it closely, I saw that the stone was oddly cut, although the fact was not likely to impress one who was ignorant of the purpose for which it was made.
The chief resumed his pacing, but presently paused to say:
“If anything happens to me, my friend, be sure to secure this ring above all else. Get it to Paola, or to Fonseca, or Piexoto as soon as possible—you know where they may be found. Should it fall into the hands of the royalists the result would be fatal.”
“But would either of your associates be able to use the ring, even if it passed into their possession?” I asked.
“There are two hundred indentations in the door of the trap,” answered de Pintra, “and the stone of the ring is so cut that it fits but one of these. Still, if our friends have time to test each cavity, they are sure to find the right one, and then the stone of my ring acts as a key. My real safety, as you will observe, lay in the hope that no one would discover that my ring unlocked the vault. Now that Izabel has learned the truth I must guard the ring as I would my life—more, the lives of all our patriotic band.”
“Since you suspect her loyalty, why do you not send your daughter away?” I suggested.
“I prefer to keep her under my own eye. And, strange as her actions of to-night seem, I still hesitate to believe that my own child would conspire to ruin me.”