Apparently the Baron did not sleep on that floor at all.
At last, however, they came to a locked door at the end of the corridor. A rapid examination showed that it had been locked from the inside, and the key was missing. Therefore, without further ado, Ralph knelt down at the lock, and with “The Eel” holding the little lamp, he commenced to attack the fastening with his skeleton keys. At such work he was an expert, for in three minutes the door stood open, and they found themselves standing in a small place, almost a box-room, for it only contained a plain little leather-covered table, set against the wall, and a chair; while in the opposite corner, upon a strong, wooden stand, stood a big, green-painted fireproof safe, about six feet in height.
Both men uttered ejaculations of surprise when their eyes fell upon it.
“The papers—the secrets of Germany—are in here!” Ralph exclaimed, in a whisper. “Come! There’s no time to lose. Let’s get at them. I hope this is the key. I suppose he preferred to keep it in hiding in the secret place in his writing-table than to carry it about with him.”
Taking the bright little key from his pocket, he examined it critically by the light of the lamp. Then he examined the maker’s name upon the brass plate on the safe.
“Yes,” he said, “I think I’m right. And if so, we shall each be richer by a couple of hundred thousand francs.”
“You don’t seem to like the Baron, Ralph!” whispered his friend, with a smile.
“Like him! Why, I hate him! I’ve been here before—as his visitor.”
“Is he really what you alleged—a German spy?”
“Yes. And I can prove it. Why, in doing what we are now we are acting as patriots, not as common burglars. We are acting for the honour of France.”