He set down the lantern.
"The key in the lock!" he exclaimed. "It was foolish to leave it in the
lock."
"Who would come to this infernal tomb?" said Rosmore.
"Two of us have come," said Sir John, as he turned the key and raised
the heavy lid.
A few crumpled pieces of paper, one or two torn pieces of cloth, an
empty canvas bag, half of a broken jewel case, and in one corner the
glitter of two or three links of a gold chain. This was all the great
chest contained!
"You forgot that bit of chain when you removed the treasure, Sir John,"
said Rosmore, pointing to it.
"Liar! Robber! Where is it?"
Rosmore laughed; perhaps he was unconscious that he did so.
The empty chest seemed to have paralysed his brain for a moment. He
could not think. He could not devise a scheme for forcing the truth from
his rival.
Sir John had only one idea--revenge. This man had robbed him. The
treasure was gone, but the thief was before him. With an oath he sprang
forward, there was a flash in Rosmore's face, and a report which echoed
back from every side sharply. The bullet missed its mark, chipping the
stone wall behind. Then the two men were locked together in a silent,
deadly struggle.
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