"Then, as far as you are aware, nobody has ever had possession of your key—not even mademoiselle your daughter?"
"Not even Gabrielle. I always lock and unlock the safe myself."
"But she has access to its contents when it is open," the visitor remarked. "Acting as your secretary, she is, of course, aware of a good deal of your business."
"No; you are mistaken. Have we not arranged a code in order to prevent her from satisfying her woman's natural inquisitiveness?"
"That's admitted. But the document in question, though somewhat guarded, is sufficiently plain to any one acquainted with the nature of our negotiations."
The blind man crossed to the safe, and with the key upon his chain opened it, and, after fumbling in one of the long iron drawers revealed within, took out a big oblong envelope, orange-coloured, and secured with five black seals, now, however, broken.
This he handed to his friend, saying, "Read it again, to refresh your memory. I know myself what it says pretty well by heart."
Monsieur Goslin drew forth the paper within and read the lines of close, even writing. It was in German. He stood near the window as he read, while Sir Henry remained near the open safe.
Hill tapped at the bolted door, but his master replied that he did not wish to be disturbed. "Yes," the Frenchman said at last, "the copy they have in Athens is exact—word for word."
"They may have obtained it from Vienna."