Sapt bent down with sudden eagerness.

"Is it open?" he whispered.

The string was round it; the sealing-wax was unbroken. The secret had outlived the King, and he had gone to his death unknowing. All at once—I cannot tell why—I put my hand over my eyes; I found my eyelashes were wet.

"Is it open?" asked Sapt again, for in the dim light he could not see.

"No," I answered.

"Thank God!" said he. And, for Sapt's, the voice was soft.