“And they are in your keeping?”
“They are in my keeping as Minister of War.”
“And some of them affect you—personally? Tell me the truth,” she urged, her gloved hand laid upon the edge of the table.
“They affect me both as Minister and as a loyal subject of His Majesty,” was His Excellency’s response, his face growing a trifle paler.
If the truths contained within that safe really leaked out, the result, he knew, would be irretrievable ruin. Even the contemplation of such a catastrophe caused him to hold his breath.
“Then I assure you, father, that nearly half the documents within have been carefully and methodically examined by this man who poses as your friend.”
“And to tell you the truth, dear, I cannot credit it. He can have no key that would open the door, unless he recovered it from the Arno—which is not likely. They never dredge that part, for it is too deep. Besides, that portion of the river is my own property, and before it could be dredged they would have to give me notice.”
“But a duplicate—could he not possess one?”
“Impossible. That safe was specially manufactured in London for me, and is one of the strongest ever constructed. I had it made specially of treble strength which will resist any drill or wedge—even dynamite would only break the lock and leave the bolts shot. The only manner it could be forced without the key would be to place it in a furnace or apply electrical heat, which would cause the steel to give. The makers specially designed it so that no second key could ever be fitted.”
“Then you disbelieve me?” she said, looking into her father’s face.