As the saying is, I had my task cut out for me. Never did any one go
more nearly mad over the subject of keys than I. Cousin Geoffrey, with
all his eccentricities, had in many respects a well-balanced mind.
Nothing could have been neater than the queer arrangements of his house.
Everywhere there were locked cupboards, locked bureaus, locked chests
of drawers, boxes with locks to them, portfolios which could only be
opened by fitting a key into a lock. In short, there never was a more
thoroughly locked-up house. No wonder the bag which contained Cousin
Geoffrey's keys should prove heavy.
It was one thing, however, for the owner of the said keys to know where
to apply each--it was quite another thing for me. To my horror when I
unfastened the brown leather bag, I found that the great bunches of keys
of all sorts and sizes were unlabelled. When I made this discovery I
almost gave up my task in despair. I had to look twice at the ruby
ring, and think of the voice which spoke so confidently within its
secret chamber before I had the courage to commence my search.
I don't believe, however, that my heart was a particularly faint one,
and after girding myself to the fray, I toiled up-stairs, carrying the
bag of keys with me.