“You may trust me,” said the Duke; “you have my word,” he added, as if reluctantly.  People whose word is to be trusted are generally slow to give it.  Claudius bowed his head courteously, in acknowledgment of the plighted promise.  Then he opened a trunk that stood in a corner of the room, and took from it the iron box in which he had deposited the lawyer’s letter on that evening three months before, when his destiny had roused itself from its thirty years’ slumber.  He set the box on the table, and having locked the door of the room sat down opposite his guest.  He took a key from his pocket.

“You will think it strange,” he said with a smile, “that I should have taken the liberty of confiding to you my secret.  But when you have seen what is there, you will perceive that you are the most fitting confidant in this country—­for general reasons, of course; for I need not say there is nothing in those papers which concerns you personally.”  Claudius unlocked the box and took out a few letters that were lying on the top, then he pushed the casket across the table to the Duke.

“Will you please examine the contents for yourself?” he said.  “There are only three or four papers to read—­the rest are letters from my father to my mother—­you may look at them if you like; they are very old.”

All this time the Duke looked very grave.  He was not accustomed to have his word of honour asked for small matters, and if this were some trivial question of an assumed name, or the like, he was prepared to be angry with Claudius.  So he silently took the little strong box, and examined the contents.  There were two packages of papers, two or three morocco cases that might contain jewels, and there was a string of pearls lying loose in the bottom of the casket.  The Duke took the pearls curiously in his hand and held them to the light.  He had seen enough of such things to know something of their value, and he knew this string might be worth anywhere from eight to ten thousand pounds.  He looked graver than ever.

“Those are beautiful pearls, Dr. Claudius,” he said; “too beautiful for a Heidelberg student to have lying about among his traps.”  He turned them over and added, “The Duchess has nothing like them.”

“They belonged to my mother,” said Claudius simply.  “I know nothing of their value.”

The Duke took the papers and untied the smaller package, which appeared to contain legal documents, while the larger seemed to be a series of letters filed in their envelopes, as they had been received.

“My mother’s name was Maria Lindstrand,” said Claudius.  He leaned back, smoking the eternal cigarette, and watched the Duke’s face.

Before the Englishman had proceeded far he looked up at Claudius, uttering an exclamation of blank amazement.  Claudius merely bent his head as if to indorse the contents of the paper, and was silent.  The Duke read the papers carefully through, and examined one of them very minutely by the light.  Then he laid them down with a certain reverence, as things he respected.