"Are the papers of value?" Mrs. Ryves inquired.
"I haven't the least idea. But I can ascertain by breaking a seal."
"Don't!" said Mrs. Ryves, with much expression. She looked grave again.
"It's rather tantalising—it's a bit of a problem," Baron went on, turning his packet over.
Mrs. Ryves hesitated. "Will you show me what you have in your hand?"
He gave her the packet, and she looked at it and held it for an instant to her nose. "It has a queer, charming old fragrance," he said.
"Charming? It's horrid." She handed him back the packet, saying again more emphatically "Don't!"
"Don't break a seal?"
"Don't give back the papers."
"Is it honest to keep them?"
"Certainly. They're yours as much as the people's of the shop. They were in the hidden chamber when the table came to the shop, and the people had every opportunity to find them out. They didn't—therefore let them take the consequences."
Peter Baron reflected, diverted by her intensity. She was pale, with eyes almost ardent. "The table had been in the place for years."
"That proves the things haven't been missed."
"Let me show you how they were concealed," he rejoined; and he exhibited the ingenious recess and the working of the curious spring. She was greatly interested, she grew excited and became familiar;
