“This was all.”

“You are quite certain?”

“Quite.”

“You did not leave the other piece behind in the cow-shed by any chance?”

“No, for I looked at the packet before I hid it, and there was only one piece of metal.”

“Very well.  One half of the golden clasp being lost, the next question is, what has become of it?”

I nodded.

“To this,” said Uncle Loveday, bending forward over the table, “two answers are possible.  Either it lies at the bottom of the sea with the rest of the freight of the Belle Fortune, or it is in Colliver’s possession.”

“It may lie beneath Dead Man’s Rock, in John Railton’s pocket,” I suggested.

“True, my boy, true; you put another case.  But anyhow it makes no difference.  If it lies at the bottom of the sea, whether in Railton’s pocket or not, the secret is safe.  If it is in Colliver’s possession the secret is safe, unless he has seen and learnt by heart this half of the inscription.  In any case, I am sorry to tell you—­ and this is what I was coming to—­the secret is closed against us for the time.”

“That is not certain,” said I.

“Excuse me, Jasper, it is quite certain.  You admit yourself that this writing is nonsense.  Well and good.  But besides this, I would have you remember,” pursued Uncle Loveday, turning once more to my father’s Journal, “that Ezekiel expressly says, ’The inscription ran right across the clasp.’  It could be read easily enough and contained accurate directions for searching in some spot, but where that spot was it did not reveal—­”

“Quite so,” I interrupted, “and that is just what we have to discover.”

“How?”

“Why, by means of the key, as the parchment and the Will plainly show.  We may 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.”