Hildebrand slightly moved his head, and the speaker continued—­

“From Sir Henry’s description, and the tracings which he drew on the floor of his cell, I should conceive that this room contains the object of our search.  I will recount the memoranda that I made, lest memory should be unfaithful.  When the third cover is unclosed, in the lowest part of the recess on the right hand, beneath a sliding panel, is a spring, on touching which the whole flies back, and discovers a rare device, beautifully wrought in arabesque relief.  So far, in all likelihood, you being his confidential secretary, have beheld?”

“I have seen this cunning work thou speakest of.  What more?”

“Embellishing the four corners thereof is the likeness of a hand, curiously chased in silver; the second joint on the third finger of the lowest of them, on the left, being pressed, the whole picture, by marvellous sleight and artifice, riseth up, revealing the treasure of which I am in search.”

“Hath Sir Henry sent no written message, that we may know his will in this matter?” inquired Hildebrand.

“It is strictly forbidden to a prisoner,” replied the other, “to use tablets; but my knowledge of the secret is a sufficient safeguard against imposture.”

“Retire:  I will begin the search with all speed.  But hold thyself in readiness for immediate departure.  Thou wilt not have the worse thrift for a hasty dismissal.”

The stranger withdrew, accompanied by Hardpiece.  Hildebrand listened to their retreating footsteps; when, like unto one possessed, he stamped, and tore his thin grey locks, and cursed—­audibly and bitterly cursed—­his destiny.

“Hast thou escaped?—­when the draught danced and bubbled over my parched lips.  Fate—­fortune, whatever thou art, I would curse thee!”

As he spoke, he lifted up one clenched hand towards heaven, laden with imprecation.  And why did not that power, whose vengeance he visibly defied, launch a bolt against the impious?—­Why not reader him, in that very act, a monument of just and righteous retribution?—­“Shall not the Judge of the whole earth do right?” is a master-key that unlocks the mysteries and ministrations of Divine Providence, however complicated in their nature and obscure in their design.

As the hoary sinner withdrew his hand, suddenly the muscles of his face relaxed; a ray of hope had irradiated his spirit—­a gleam of delight passed over his pale features.  He grew calm, and with a firm step he strode across the apartment.  He approached the cabinet.

“Thou shalt not escape me now!”—­As he said this, he threw open the doors.  Hildebrand had often searched this depository, but the place of concealment pointed out by the stranger had hitherto escaped his notice.  He soon detected the stratagem—­the lid flew back; but the papers of which he was in search were gone!

The spirit of mischief was again foiled, but his evil genius did not forsake him.  He sat down, and, for purposes of the blackest malignity, forged a series of evidences—­a development of plans and proceedings that would at once have branded Sir Henry as a coward and a traitor.  These letters he sealed up, and calling for the messenger, committed the packet into his hands.