"A little investigation, however, wouldn't come amiss," declared Dunstan. "It strikes me, fellows, that these things are here because somebody had particular reasons for wishing to keep them out of sight."
"Well, he certainly succeeded, all right," declared young Manning.
"Then, of course, they are probably of some value," cried Don. "I say, Dunstan"—a sudden idea had flashed into his mind—"I wonder—I wonder——"
"What?" demanded the art student.
"If—if——" Don, pausing again, began to laugh. "No—no—that's absurd!"
Walking forward, he began to examine several of the boxes, while Dunstan and Chase peered earnestly over his shoulder.
"Aha! If they don't contain pictures I'm pretty badly mistaken!" cried the art student, suddenly. Excitement was in his tone. "By George, Don, having guessed your meaning, I'm beginning to wonder myself if——Hello!—by all that's wonderful, just look at that name!" Dunstan's voice almost rose into a shout. "Great Julius Cæsar! Astounding—astounding! Just think of it—Giovanni Bellini!"
Now the name of Giovanni Bellini, which the art student pronounced with a degree of earnestness that almost suggested a feeling of awe, meant very little to either Don or Chase, neither of whom were especially interested in artistic matters, but nevertheless the excitement displayed by the art student at once communicated itself to them.
"Do you really think it's possible that the mystery of the Château de Morancourt is solved at last?" cried Don, his voice quivering with suppressed eagerness, his eyes open to their widest extent, while Chase, staring with considerable curiosity at the name of Giovanni Bellini, murmured:
"What a marvelous thing it would be!"