“Look in the—”
I felt myself trembling all over. Where was I to look? Why was I to look? Was the ruby ring going to tell me a secret? Was it going to confide to me—to me, the mystery of Cousin Geoffrey’s unknown heir?
With great difficulty, and with fingers that trembled, I moved the morsel of paper until I got the microscope to bear on the remaining words of the sentence. They came out clear at last. Clear and large they flashed upon my vision.
The conclusion of the sentence was as follows:
“Chamber of Myths.”
The ruby ring had given up its secret; it had brought me a message.
“Look in the Chamber of Myths.”
“Yes,” I said, “I will look there to-morrow.”