He reached the key and descended, his heart beating more and more wildly as he approached the realization of his hopes.

Gently as he could he turned it in the lock.

In a moment more he had his hands on the spot where the shoemaker always laid his violin.

But his heart sank within him: there was no violin there.

A blank of dismay held him both motionless and thoughtless; nor had he recovered his senses before he heard footsteps, which he well knew, approaching in the street.