Dusky it was with but one candle; and he paused near the door, at the left-hand side of which stood, in those days, an old-fashioned press or cabinet of carved oak.

In front of this he stopped.
He had odd, absent ways, and talked more to himself, I believe, than to all the rest of the world put together.
'She won't understand,' he whispered, looking at me enquiringly.

'No, she won't.

_Will_ she ?' Then there was a pause, during which he brought forth from his breast pocket a small bunch of some half-dozen keys, on one of which he looked frowningly, every now and then balancing it a little before his eyes, between his finger and thumb, as he deliberated.
I knew him too well, of course, to interpose a word.
'They are easily frightened--ay, they are.

I'd better do it another way.' And pausing, he looked in my face as he might upon a picture.
'They _are_--yes--I had better do it another way--another way; yes--and she'll not suspect--she'll not suppose.' Then he looked steadfastly upon the key, and from it to me, suddenly lifting it up, and said abruptly, 'See, child,' and, after a second or two, '_Remember_ this key.' It was oddly shaped, and unlike others.
'Yes, sir.' I always called him 'sir.' 'It opens that,' and he tapped it sharply on the door of the cabinet.