“Why, merely that he must have omitted to lock it overnight. Of course the key of the strong room will be there just as he left it, and there will be nothing to arouse his suspicions that it has even been touched. He will simply tell himself that he must be more careful in future, and there will be an end of the matter.” It was too early for breakfast, so they left the house and went for a stroll in the grounds. “I wish, Lewis, my boy,” remarked the Captain cheerfully, “you would try not to look quite so glum and down in the mouth. If you had a murder on your mind you could hardly look more wretched than you do. Do, for goodness sake, assume a cheerfulness; even if you can’t feel it—though what cause you have for being anything else than cheerful, I cannot for the life of me imagine.” “Oh, I’m not like you; I haven’t nerves of cast iron; I wish I had,” retorted Luigi. “Be cheerful, indeed! It’s all very fine, but how is it possible for me to look other than down in the mouth when I remember the desperate business I’m booked to go through with three nights hence?” “Desperate business, indeed! What nonsense is this? There’s nothing desperate about it, nothing whatever. Here’s the affair in a nutshell: you wait in your room till the clock strikes midnight; then you kick off your shoes, steal downstairs in the dark, and make your way to the study. Then you open the slide of your dark lantern and proceed to manipulate your picklocks. After a minute or two the lock yields to your coaxing; you open the drawer and there lies the key you want, ready to your hand. Five minutes later the bonds are yours. By half-past twelve you are not merely back in your own room, but in bed and asleep. _Voilà tout!_ Desperate business, quotha!” For sole reply Luigi shrugged his shoulders and spread out the palms of his hands with one of those indescribable gestures which an Englishman may perhaps caricature, but cannot even passably imitate.