ay still be beaten, but even so, we shall know whereabouts
to look, if we can only catch Colliver."

"Bless the boy!" said Uncle Loveday, "he certainly has a head."

"Uncle," continued I, rising to my feet, "the secret of the Great
Ruby is written upon my grandfather's key. That key was to be taken
down when he that undertook the task of discovering the secret should
have returned and crossed the threshold of Lantrig. Uncle, my father
has crossed the threshold of Lantrig--"

"Feet foremost, feet foremost, my boy. Oh, poor Ezekiel!"

"Feet foremost, yes," I continued--"dead and murdered, yes. But he
has come: come to find my mother dead, but still he has come.
Uncle, I am the only Trenoweth left to Lantrig; think of it, the only
one left--"

"Poor Ezekiel! Poor Margery!"

"Yes, uncle, and all I inherit is the knife that murdered my father,
and this key. I have the knife, and I will take down the key.
We are not beaten yet."

I drew a chair under the great beam, and mounted it. When first my
grandfather returned he had hung the iron key upon its hook, giving
strict injunctions that no one should touch it. There ever since it
had hung, the centre of a host of spiders' webs. Even my poor
mother's brush, so diligent elsewhere, had never invaded this sacred
relic, and often during our lonely winter evenings had she told me
the story of it: how that Amos Trenoweth's dying curse was laid upon
the person that should touch it, and how the spiders' days were
numbered with every day that brought my father nearer home.

There it hung now, scarcely to be seen for cobwebs. Its hour had
come at last. Even as I stretched out my hand a dozen horrid things
hurried tumultuously back into darkness. Even as I laid my hand on
it, a big ungainly spider, scared but half incredulous, started in
alarm, hesitated, and finally made off at full speed for shelter.

This, then, was the key that should unlock the treasure--this,
that had from the first hung over us, the one uncleansed spot in
Lantrig: this was the talisman--this grimy thing lying in my hand.
The spiders had been jealous in their watch.

Stepping down, I got a cloth and brushed away the cobwebs. The key
was covered thickly with rust, but even so I could see that something
was written upon it. For about a minute I stood polishing it, and
then carried it forward to the light.

Yes, there was writing upon it, both on the handle and along the
shaft--writing that,