I saw that further resistance was useless. Bending over, I fitted the stone of the ring into the proper indentation, and shot the bolts. The great door was swung upward, a whiff of the damp, confined air entered my nostrils and made me shiver.
Reaching my hand within the vault I turned the switch that threw on the electric light, and then withdrew that the others might enter.
But no one moved. The light illuminated the full interior of the great vault, and every eye gazed eagerly within.
Valcour uttered a groan of baffled rage; Piexoto swore horribly in a scarcely audible tone, and the Minister of Police laughed.
“Good God!” cried the Emperor, with staring eyeballs, “the vault is empty!”
CHAPTER XVII
THE TORCH OF REBELLION
With a bound I stood within the grim vault and searched its confines with anxious eyes. True enough, the place was empty. Not a scrap of paper, a book, or a bank-note had been left there. The shelves that lined the walls were as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.
The records of the Revolution were gone. The body of Miguel de Pintra was gone. Thank God, the great and glorious Cause was as yet safe!
Valcour was on his hands and knees, prying into the corners for some scrap that might have been overlooked.
Paola stood beside me with the old aggravating simper upon his face, twirling one end of his moustache.