The Key is studded almost all over with
precious stones. Last year a certain naval man--I'll not mention
his name--discovered the secret of its hiding-place. How he came
by that knowledge does not matter at present. One very dark
night he crept up to the temple. He found the Keeper of the Key--
a Buddhist priest--to be sleeping, and he succeeded, therefore,
in gaining access and becoming possessed of the Key."
A chorus of excited exclamations greeted this dramatic point of
the story.
"The object of this outrage," continued the Colonel, "for an
outrage I cannot deny it to have been, was not a romantic one.
The poor chap wanted money, and he thought he could sell the Key
to one of the native jewellers. But he was mistaken. He got
back safely, and secretly offered it in various directions. No
one would touch the thing; moreover, although of great value, the
stones were very far from flawless, and not really worth the
risks which he had run to secure them. Don't misunderstand me;
the Key would fetch a big sum, but not a fortune."
"Yes?" said Madame de Medici, smiling, for the Colonel paused.
"He packed it up and addressed it to me, together with a letter.
The price that he asked was quite a moderate one, and when the
Key arrived in England I dispatched a check immediately.
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