This was the right way to work, for the lock was a peculiar one, and could not have been opened without spoiling it.

He raised the lid, and the first thing his hand came upon in the chest was the necklace with the empty medallion--it was as though some kind Genius were aiding him.

The medallion hung but slightly to the elegantly-wrought chain; to detach it and conceal it about his person was the work of a minute.
But now the most resolute.

"On, on...." was of no further avail.

This was theft: he had robbed her whom, if she only had chosen it, he was ready to load with everything wherewith fate had so superabundantly blessed him.