The key for a moment, the
key, my darling, of this fine old piece of furniture!"
"Is it likely that I would give you the key? My father always keeps it.
What right have you with his private desk? I never promised anything so
bad as that."
"I am not to be trifled with," he whispered, sternly. "Do you think that
I came here for kissing? The key I must have, or break it open; and how
will you explain that away?"
His rudeness settled her growing purpose. The misery of indecision
vanished; she would do what was right, if it cost her life. Her face was
as white as her satin dress, but her dark eyes flashed with menace.
"There is a key that opens it," she said, as she pointed to the
bookcase; "but I forbid you to touch it, sir."
Carne's only reply was to snatch the key from the upper glass door of
the book-shelves, which fitted the lock of the Admiral's desk, though
the owner was not aware of it. In a moment the intruder had unlocked the
high and massive standing-desk, thrown back the cover, and placed one
candlestick among the documents. Many of them he brushed aside, as
useless for his purpose, and became bewildered among the rest, for the
Commander of the Coast-defence was not a man of order. He never knew
where to put a thing, nor even where it might have put itself, but found
a casual home for any paper that deserved it. This lack of method has
one compensation, like other human defects, to wit, that it puzzles a
clandestine searcher more deeply than cypher or cryptogram.
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