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He was in terrible haste, he snatched the keys, and began trying

them again. But he was unsuccessful. They would not fit in the

locks. It was not so much that his hands were shaking, but that

he kept making mistakes; though he saw for instance that a key

was not the right one and would not fit, still he tried to put it

in. Suddenly he remembered and realised that the big key with the

deep notches, which was hanging there with the small keys could

not possibly belong to the chest of drawers (on his last visit

this had struck him), but to some strong box, and that everything

perhaps was hidden in that box. He left the chest of drawers, and

at once felt under the bedstead, knowing that old women usually

keep boxes under their beds. And so it was; there was a

good-sized box under the bed, at least a yard in length, with an

arched lid covered with red leather and studded with steel nails.

The notched key fitted at once and unlocked it.