"La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you," was his sharp
salute.
"Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself," said Sir
Norman, shortly.
And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and entered.
But that outraged servitor sprang in his path, indignant and amazed.
"No, sir; I cannot permit it. I do not know you; and it is against all
orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence."
"Bah! you old simpleton!" remarked Sir Norman, losing his customary
respect for old age in his impatience, "I have La Masque's order for
what I am about to do. Get along with you directly, will you? Show me to
her private room, and no nonsense!"
He tapped his sword-hilt significantly as he spoke, and that argument
proved irresistible. Grumbling, in low tones, the anatomy stalked
up-stairs; and the other followed, with very different feelings from
those with which he had mounted that staircase last. His guide paused in
the hall above, with his hand on the latch of a door.
"This is her private room, is it!" demanded Sir Norman.
"Yes."
"Just stand aside, then, and let me pass."
The room he entered was small, simply furnished, and seemed to answer
as bed-chamber and study, all in one. There was a writing-table under a
window, covered with books, and he glanced at them with some
curiosity. They were classics, Greek and Latin, and other little known
tongues--perhaps Sanscrit and Chaldaic, French belles lettres, novels,
and poetry, and a few rare old English books. There were no papers,
however, and those were what he was in search of; so spying a drawer in
the table, he pulled it hastily open. The eight that met his eyes fairly
dazzled him. It was full of jewels of incomparable beauty and value,
strewn as carelessly about as if they were valueless. The blaze of
gems at the midnight court seemed to him as nothing compared with the
Golconda, the Valley of Diamonds shooting forth sparks of rainbow-fire
before him now. Around one magnificent diamond necklace was entwined a
scrap of paper, on which was written: "The family jewels of the Montmorencis. To be given to my sisters when I
am dead."
That settled their destiny. All this blaze of diamonds, rubies, and
opals were Leoline's; and with the energetic rapidity characteristic
of our young friend that morning, he swept them out on the table, and
resumed his search for papers. No document was there to reward his
search, but the brief one twined round the necklace; and he was about
giving up in despair, when a small brass slide in one corner caught his
eye. Instantly he was at it, trying it every way, shoving it out and in,
and up and down, until at last it yielded to his touch, disclosing an
inner drawer, full of papers and parchments. One glance showed them to
be what he was in search of--proofs of Leoline and Hubert's identity,
with the will of the marquis, their father, and numerous other documents
relative to his wealth and estates. These precious manuscripts he rolled
together in a bundle, and placed carefully in his doublet, and then
seizing a beautifully-wrought brass casket, that stood beneath the
table, he swept the jewels in, secured it, and strapped it to his belt.
This brisk and important little affair being over, he arose to go, and
in turning, saw the skeleton porter standing in the door-way, looking on
in speechless dismay.