e. Within this iron room or chamber, which would defy any
burglar's tools, is a chest of steel, constructed from the Colonel's own
designs, to contain his enormous fortune, and when that has been taken
out at twelve o'clock to-morrow, it is to be replaced by the coffin that
lies in the next room, by us who are present now; to be closed up and
locked; the iron chamber is to be also closed; then the iron door; and
lastly, we are to see that portal completely walled up, as I have
already told you, and--forgotten."

"But," said Artis, quickly, "is the large sum in notes here--in this
place?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the diamonds--the pearls?" said Katrine.

"Yes, my dear young lady, all are here."

"And you have the keys?"

"I and Ramo, the deceased's trusted servant."

"But is--"

Artis was about to continue, "it safe to trust that man?" but, as he
spoke, he glanced at Ramo, who was watching him.

"My guide is the series of rules written by Colonel Capel, sir," said
Mr Girtle, coldly.

"Can we see the jewels?" said Katrine.

"Yes; you can show us the treasure," cried Artis, with a half-laugh.
"As we two are to have nothing, we might be indulged with a peep."

"The treasure is Mr Paul Capel's, sir," said the old lawyer; "but, even
if he expressed a wish, I could not depart from my instructions.
To-morrow, at noon, I bid you all to meet me at the door of Colonel
Capel's room."

"To-morrow?" said Artis. "To-day."

The old lawyer glanced at his watch.

"Yes," he said, "to-day. I had forgotten that it was so late. Will you
kindly accompany me to the drawing-room?"

The Indian went first and drew back the curtain, and they passed up into
the bedroom, where the old officer lay in state.

There they paused, as Ramo drew back the iron door and turned the key,
when the bolts shot into their sockets, and the curtain was drawn.

Then, glancing at the bed, they passed out of the room, Ramo locking the
door, listening sharply, with his ears twitching, as he caught a faint
creaking noise made by a lock in the lower part of the house.

"How strange that bronze figure looks," said Mr Girtle, glancing up at
the great centaur looming indistinctly against the stained-glass window,
in whose recess it stood.

"Yes," said Paul. "It is a fine work, but it looks as if it were going
to dash out some one's brains."

"That is what I have always thought whenever I have entered or left that
room."

"I wish to Heaven it had-