The poacher coolly tossed the food on the ground, and, as Tric-Trac rose to pick it up, seized the box.
“Drop that!” said Tric-Trac, quickly.
“What’s in it?”
“Nothing! Drop it, I tell you.”
“Where’s the key?”
“There’s no key—it’s a machine.”
“What’s in it?”
“Now I’ve been trying to find out for two weeks,” sneered Tric-Trac, “and I don’t know yet. Drop it!”
“I’m going to open it all the same,” said the Lizard, coolly, lifting the lid.
A sudden silence followed; then the Lizard swore vigorously. There was another box within the light, iron-edged casket, a keyless cube of shining steel, 246 with a knob on the top, and a needle which revolved around a dial on which were engraved the hours and minutes. And emblazoned above the dial was the coat of arms of the Countess de Vassart.