Vandover knew that this unlocked a little iron box that from time out of mind had been screwed upon the lower shelf of the clothes closet in his father's room.

It was in this box that the Old Gentleman kept his ready money and a few important papers.
For a long time Vandover stood undecided, changing the keys about from one hand to the other, hesitating before opening this iron box; he could not tell why.

By and by, however, he went softly into his father's room, and into the clothes closet near the head of the bed.

Holding the key toward the lock, he paused listening; it was impossible to rid his mind of the idea that he was doing something criminal.

He shook himself, smiling at the fancy, assuring himself of the honesty of the thing, yet opening the box stealthily, holding the key firmly in order that it might not spring back with a loud click, looking over his shoulder the while and breathing short through his nose.
The first thing that he saw inside was a loaded revolver, the sudden view of which sent a little qualm through the pit of his stomach.