“Then find him,” the factor replied. “Find him, but don’t ask me to break into this trunk.”
Mr. Burley agitatedly wiped his brow.
“Sir, I beg of you to reconsider your determination,” he pleaded. “Permit me to see what is in the trunk. Open it in my presence, let me hastily examine the contents, and then seal it up intact. It is a simple matter for you—a most important one for me.”
At first Macdonald made no reply, but he was clearly moved by the law clerk’s earnestness and importunity. He hesitated a moment, and then said coldly:
“I will do this much for you, sir: I will take the rope from the trunk and if it can be picked open without breaking the lock, well and good; if not, you must be content.”
“Try it, sir, at once,” exclaimed Mr. Burley.
Taking a knife from his pocket, the factor knelt beside the trunk. He began to sever, one by one, the tightly-knotted strands of rope; they had been tied so many years that they could not be picked open. The law clerk fairly trembled with excitement as he bent over him; Flora and I watched the operation calmly.
Just then we heard soft footsteps, and looking up we were surprised to see Captain Rudstone standing within a yard of us. There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes, and a half-amused, half-mocking expression lurked on his inscrutable features. His glance swept about the room, then settled keenly on our little group.
“Pardon me for interrupting you, Mr. Macdonald,” he said in well-modulated tones. “I heard you were here, and as my business happened to lie in the same direction, I took the liberty of following you uninvited. I could not have arrived at a more opportune time. I think that is my trunk you are trying to open. May I relieve you of the trouble?”
“Your trunk, sir?” gasped the factor, letting the knife drop from his fingers.