Blackened by damp and green with moss, its lock and hinges eaten away with rust, it looked like a part of the old wall.

Doubtless the key was lost; the grass growing beside the lower boards, against which slight mounds had formed, amply proved that no one had passed that way for many a long year.

However, it was the lost key that Silvere hoped to find.

He knew with what devotion his aunt Dide allowed the relics of the past to lie rotting wherever they might be.

He searched the house for a week without any result, and went stealthily night by night to see if he had at last put his hand on the right key during the daytime.