is the key?"

"Small threw it into the Thames," I answered. "I must borrow Mrs.
Forrester's poker." There was in the front a thick and broad hasp,
wrought in the image of a sitting Buddha. Under this I thrust the end
of the poker and twisted it outward as a lever. The hasp sprang open
with a loud snap. With trembling fingers I flung back the lid. We
both stood gazing in astonishment. The box was empty!

No wonder that it was heavy. The iron-work was two-thirds of an inch
thick all round. It was massive, well made, and solid, like a chest
constructed to carry things of great price, but not one shred or crumb
of metal or jewelry lay within it. It was absolutely and completely
empty.

"The treasure is lost," said Miss Morstan, calmly.

As I listened to the words and realized what they meant, a great shadow
seemed to pass from my soul. I did not know how this Agra treasure had
weighed me down, until now that it was finally removed. It was
selfish, no doubt, disloyal, wrong, but I could realize nothing save
that the golden barrier was gone from between us. "Thank God!" I
ejaculated from my very heart.

She looked at me with a quick, questioning smile. "Why do you say
that?" she asked.

"Because you are within my reach again," I said, taking her hand. She
did not withdraw it. "Because I love you, Mary, as truly as ever a man
loved a woman. Because this treasure, these riches, sealed my lips.
Now that they are gone I can tell you how I love you. That is why I
said, 'Thank God.'"

"Then I say, 'Thank God,' too," she whispered, as I drew her to my
side. Whoever had lost a treasure, I knew that night that I had gained
one.

Chapter XII

The Strange Story of Jonathan Small

A very patient man was that inspector in the cab, for it was a weary
time before I rejoined him. His face clouded over when I showed him
the empty box.

"There goes the reward!" said he, gloomily. "Where there is no money
there is no pay. This night's work would have been worth a tenner each
to Sam Brown and me if the treasure had been there."

"Mr. Thaddeus Sholto is a rich man," I said. "He will see that you are
rewarded, treasure or no."

The inspector shook his head despondently, however. "It's a bad job,"
he repeated; "and so Mr. Athelney Jones will think."

His forecast proved to be correct, for the detective looked blank
enough when I got to Baker Street and showed him the empty box. They
had only just arrive