“There,” said Captain Valentine, “behold the most cunning device ever invented for holding a few threads of hair, or any other invaluable treasure. Yes, this ring is the companion one to yours, Ursula. No doubt on the subject, no doubt whatever, for it was my great-grandmother, or her double, who invented this unique little hiding-place in the back of a ring.”
“But this hiding-place, this secret treasure-house contains no hair, no delightful discovery of any kind,” said Lady Ursula.
“That is true; the space is empty,” said Captain Valentine. “Nevertheless, I identify the ring.” He touched the secret spring again. The central ruby seemed to flash a wicked intelligent look into my eyes; the embossed gold doors revolved back into their places; the magnificent middle ruby resumed its position as keeper of the doors, and the little ring looked as it had done before.
Captain Valentine handed the ruby ring back to me.
“You must explain to me the secret of those magical doors,” I said to him. “Where did you touch the spring which set that clever, enchanting little machinery in motion?”
He took the ring again in his hand, and began to explain the cunning little secret to me.
“Do you see that nick in the side of the gold?” he said. “Just at the left of the serpent’s eye. Press it: not too hard. A light touch is sufficient—a heavy one might break the delicate machinery.”
“I see,” I answered, “thank you. No, I won’t disturb my rubies again now. It might break the charm if I got my ring to tell its secrets too often.”
“Rosamund,” said Lady Ursula, suddenly, “it strikes me that you and Rupert must be some kind of relations; that is, if that ring were left to you by a relation.”
“My mother’s cousin left me the ring,” I said.