He looked me straight in the eyes as he spoke, and with an expression of calm curiosity.
“It is the use to which such trinkets are usually put,” he added. “I am glad you have recovered it, Carew. It is a memento to be prized and treasured.”
By this time all of the party were gathered around me; Arnold’s wound had been tightly and deftly bandaged, and the flow of blood checked. A whisper of my strange discovery ran from mouth to mouth, and Flora pressed my arm in silent sympathy. There was a solemn hush, and every eye was on me as I fingered the locket in search of a spring, for I knew it opened that way. I must have touched the spot by accident, for of a sudden the trinket flew open. But the inside was quite empty. I could not repress a little cry of disappointment.
“Strange!” muttered Captain Rudstone “I was sure the locket held something! You say you never knew what your father kept in it, Carew?”
“No, he never spoke of it,” I replied. “It was rarely I caught a glimpse of it, though I knew that he always wore it.”
“Have you reason to believe that he kept anything in it?” asked Christopher Burley.
“To tell the truth, sir, I have not,” I answered.
“Ah, that lets light on the matter,” said the captain. “The trinket is probably treasured for itself—for the sake of some old association connected with it.”
“That is very likely,” I assented. “At all events, it is empty now.”
Christopher Burley begged to be allowed to examine the locket, and after a close scrutiny he handed it back to me.