“That’s a key!” cried Cerizet, who was standing beside her with some indifference, but whose imagination now set off at a gallop.

“Ha! ha! you see I was right,” cried the Cardinal.  “But what can it open?” she added, on reflection; “nothing bigger than a doll’s house.”

“No,” said Cerizet, “it is a modern invention, and very strong locks can be opened with that little instrument.”

With a rapid glance he took in all the pieces of furniture in the room; went to the bureau and pulled out the drawers; looked in the stove, in the table; but nowhere did he find a lock to which the little key could be adapted.

Suddenly the Cardinal had a flash of illumination.

“See here!” she said.  “I remarked that the old thief, as he lay on his bed, never took his eyes off the wall just opposite to him.”

“A cupboard hidden in the wall!” cried Cerizet, seizing the light eagerly; “it is not impossible!”

Examining attentively the door of the alcove, which was opposite the bed’s head, he could see nothing there but a vast accumulation of dust and spiders’ webs.  He next employed the sense of touch, and began to rap and sound the wall in all directions.  At the spot to which Toupillier’s constant gaze was directed he thought he perceived in a very narrow space a slight sonority, and he presently perceived that he was rapping on wood.  He then rubbed the spot vigorously with his handkerchief, and beneath the thick layer of dust and dirt which he thus removed he found a piece of oak plank carefully inserted in the wall.  On one side of this plank was a small round hole; it was that of the lock which the key fitted!

While Cerizet was turning the key, which worked with great difficulty, Madame Cardinal, holding the light, was pale and breathless; but, oh! cruel deception! the cupboard, at last unlocked and open, showed only an empty space, into which the light in her hand fell uselessly.

Allowing this bacchante to give vent to her despair by saluting her much-beloved uncle with the harshest epithets, Cerizet quietly inserted his arm into the cupboard, and after feeling it over at the back, he cried out, “An iron safe!” adding, impatiently, “Give me more light, Madame Cardinal.”

Then, as the light did not penetrate to the depths of the cupboard, he snatched the candle from the bottle, where, in default of a candlestick, the Cardinal had stuck it, and, taking it in his hand, moved it carefully over all parts of the iron safe, the existence of which was now a certainty.

“There is no visible lock,” he said.  “There must be a secret opening.”

“Isn’t he sly, that old villain!” exclaimed Madame Cardinal, while Cerizet’s bony fingers felt the side of the safe over minutely.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, after groping for ten minutes, “I have it!”

During this time Madame Cardinal’s life seemed actually suspended.

Under the pressure which Cerizet now applied, the iron side rose quickly into the thickness of the wall above, and in the midst of a mass of gold thrown pell-mell into a large excavation that was now exposed to view, lay a case of red morocco, which, from its size and appearance, gave promise of magnificent booty.