The interior was matte white. There was an object inside, smack in the middle. A thick volume. It had a plain cover of cream-colored card. I carried it over to the desk and set it down. I lifted the front cover to take a look, but Vaugeois was moaning. He was agitated in his chair, staring at the safe. His eyes were bulging. Froth was forming on the edges of his mouth. I looked in the safe. I had thought it was empty but it wasn’t. At the bottom was a metal lock-box with a handle, the same width and color as the safe’s interior. It had blended in and I hadn’t noticed. The lock-box was made of steel and painted white, with a small key hole in the front of it.

Vaugeois was making noises. He was agitated. I took out the box and showed it to him.

“This. You want me to open it.”

He made gurgling sounds. His eyes were rolling back in his head again and his lips were distorting into a frantic grimace. I remembered the skeleton key in the back of the cutlery drawer.

I said, “The key. I’m going to get it.” He collapsed into a pile on the chair. Breathing heavily, but relieved. His eyes closed.

I crept down to the drawing room, stepping on the outside edges of the stairs. Removed the heavy cutlery drawer, set it down and recovered the small skeleton key from the strip of duct tape stuck to the back. I pocketed the key and put the drawer back.

Up in the library, I eased the door shut again. Vaugeois was conscious. He was as alert as I had ever seen him. I showed him the key. “I’ve got you, old buddy. I’m going to open this up for you.”

He moaned and blinked both of his eyes twice, nice and steadily. I said, “Two.”

He made a moaning sound and his eyes bulged. I said, “Not two.”

He blinked both eyes again, steadily. “B?”

He was calm, which I figured meant yes. I wrote on the pad, ‘B’.

I looked at him. He blinked his eyes twenty one times in a row. I wrote on the pad, ‘U’.

He blinked his eyes eighteen times in a row. I wrote ‘R’.

He blinked his eyes fourteen times in a row. I wrote ’N’.

I said, “You want me to burn it. Whatever it is in the box.”

Vaugeois looked at me with no expression. His face was entirely slack, like he had nothing left to give. No strength at all. I said, “You speak English.” Up until this point we had been using French. His mouth curled up into a crooked smile.

I put the key into the box and opened it.