"Michael, 'tis passing strange that you should be the first to mention that which I have brought you here to speak of, but, having done so, the need for a preamble is at least removed. Know, then, that the tale of the Black Box, albeit so bedecked and garnished with absurdities by the tongue of busy gossip, is not entirely fabulous. For, verily, that box exists. I have it here."
When I heard this I was as one struck dumb. To think that in that quiet, book-lined chamber there lay a hidden secret which, as it seemed to me, might have the power to turn a kingdom upside down! I was aghast, and as I gazed in blank bewilderment about the room it was as though black boxes had usurped the very shelves and lurked in every corner. Thus for a moment I was speechless, then my eyes went slowly back to him from whom this most astounding news had come, and who now sat watching me intently.
"You have it, sir!" I said in a voice that sounded strange and distant to my ears. "Where? How?"
"That you shall know presently. All in good time," replied my father with a curious little smile, which I can see again distinctly as I write these words. "But, first of all, I ask your promise as a man and son that not a word of what I show and tell you shall pass your lips so long as I am living. When I am gone you may do as you choose, but until then this matter must be treated as a bounden secret sacred to us two, and to us alone. Have I your oath that this shall be so, Michael?"
"You have," I answered. "Here is my hand upon it."
Our hands met firm and solemnly across the table. Then my father rose, and taking down a picture of my mother which hung upon the wall, pressed with his fingers on the wainscoting beneath. Instantly a panelled door flew open, revealing a secret cupboard big enough to hold two men.
After some groping in a bottom corner of this chamber, he discovered what he sought, and, returning to the table, laid thereon a little box of ebony, about eight inches square.
CHAPTER II
The Secret of the Black Box
Sitting with his hands upon the box as though 'twere something which might jump away, my father tapped it gently, saying: