to the grim Doctor, who took it between his thumb and finger, turned it
over and over, and then proceeded to rub it with a chemical substance
which soon made it bright. It proved to be a silver key, of antique and
curious workmanship.

"Perhaps this is what Mr. Hammond was in search of," said Ned. "What a
pity he is gone! Perhaps we can send it after him."

"Nonsense," said the gruff Doctor.

And attaching the key to a chain, which he took from a drawer, and
which seemed to be gold, he hung it round Ned's neck.

"When you find a lock for this key," said he, "open it, and consider
yourself heir of whatever treasure is revealed there!"

Ned continued that sad, fatal habit of growing out of childhood, as
boys will, until he was now about ten years old, and little Elsie as
much as six or seven. He looked healthy, but pale; something there was
in the character and influences of his life that made him look as if he
were growing up in a shadow, with less sunshine than he needed for a
robust and exuberant development, though enough to make his
intellectual growth tend towards a little luxuriance, in some
directions. He was likely to turn out a fanciful, perhaps a poetic
youth; young as he was, there had been already discoveries, on the grim
Doctor's part, of certain blotted and clumsily scrawled scraps of
paper, the chirography on which was arrayed in marshalled lines of
unequal length, and each commanded by a capital letter and marching on
from six to ten lame feet. Doctor Grim inspected these things
curiously, and to say the truth most scornfully, before he took them to