Somewhat might be found in it,
throwing light upon his past or present situation; but curiosity was not
to be gratified by these means. What Clithero thought proper to conceal,
it was criminal for us to extort from him. The housekeeper was by no means convinced by these arguments, and at
length obtained her brother's permission to try whether any of her own
keys would unlock this chest. The keys were produced, but no lock nor
keyhole were discoverable. The lid was fast, but by what means it was
fastened the most accurate inspection could not detect. Hence she was
compelled to lay aside her project. This chest had always stood in the
chamber which I now occupied. These incidents were now remembered, and I felt disposed to profit by
this opportunity of examining this box. It stood in a corner, and was
easily distinguished by its form. I lifted it and found its weight by no
means extraordinary. Its structure was remarkable. It consisted of six
sides, square and of similar dimensions. These were joined, not by
mortise and tennon, not by nails, not by hinges, but the junction was
accurate. The means by which they were made to cohere were invisible. Appearances on every side were uniform, nor were there any marks by
which the lid was distinguishable from its other surfaces. During his residence with Inglefield, many specimens of mechanical
ingenuity were given by his servant. This was the workmanship of his own
hands. I looked at it for some time, till the desire insensibly arose of
opening it and examining its contents. I had no more right to do this than the Inglefields; perhaps, indeed,
this curiosity was more absurd, and the gratification more culpable, in
me than in them. I was acquainted with the history of Clithero's past
life, and with his present condition. Respecting these, I had no new
intelligence to gain, and no doubts to solve. What excuse could I make
to the proprietor, should he ever reappear to claim his own, or to
Inglefield for breaking open a receptacle which all the maxims of
society combine to render sacred? But could not my end be gained without violence? The means of opening
might present themselves on a patient scrutiny. The lid might be raised
and shut down again without any tokens of my act; its contents might be
examined, and all things restored to their former condition, in a few
minutes. I intended not a theft. I intended to benefit myself without inflicting
injury on others. Nay, might not the discoveries I should make throw
light upon the conduct of this extraordinary man which his own narrative
had withheld? Was there reason to confide implicitly on the tale which I
had heard? In spite of the testimony of my own feelings, the miseries of Clithero
appeared in some degree fantastic and groundless. A thousand conceivable
motives might induce him to pervert or conceal the truth. If he were
thoroughly known, his character might assume a new appearance; and what
is now so difficult to reconcile to common maxims might prove perfectly
consistent with them. I desire to restore him to peace; but a thorough
knowledge of his actions is necessary, both to show that he is worthy of
compassion, and to suggest the best means of extirpating his errors. It
was possible that this box contained the means of this knowledge. There were likewise other motives, which, as they possessed some
influence, however small, deserve to be mentioned. Thou knowest that I
also am a mechanist. I had constructed a writing-desk and cabinet, in
which I had endeavoured to combine the properties of secrecy, security,
and strength, in the highest possible degree. I looked upon this,
therefore, with the eye of an artist, and was solicitous to know the
principles on which it was formed. I determined to examine, and, if
possible, to open it. Chapter XII. I surveyed it with the utmost attention. All its parts appeared equally
solid and smooth. It could not be doubted that one of its sides served
the purpose of a lid, and was possible to be raised. Mere strength could
not be applied to raise it, because there was no projecture which might
be firmly held by the hand, and by which force could be exerted. Some
spring, therefore, secretly existed, which might forever elude the
senses, but on which the hand, by being moved over it in all directions,
might accidentally light. This process was effectual. A touch, casually applied at an angle, drove
back a bolt, and a spring, at the same time, was set in action, by which
the lid was raised above half an inch. No event could be supposed more
fortuitous than this. A hundred hands might have sought in vain for this
spring. The spot in which a certain degree of pressure was sufficient to
produce this effect was, of all, the least likely to attract notice or
awaken suspicion. I opened the trunk with eagerness. The space within was divided into
numerous compartments, none of which contained any thing of moment. Tools of different and curious constructions, and remnants of minute
machinery, were all that offered themselves to my notice. My expectations being thus frustrated, I proceeded to restore things to
their former state. I attempted to close the lid; but the spring which
had raised it refused to bend. No measure that I could adopt enabled me
to place the lid in the same situation in which I had found it. In my
efforts to press down the lid, which were augmented in proportion to the
resistance that I met with, the spring was broken. This obstacle being
removed, the lid resumed its proper place; but no means, within the
reach of my ingenuity to discover, enabled me to push forward the bolt,
and thus to restore the fastening. I now perceived that Clithero had provided not only against the opening
of his cabinet, but likewise against the possibility of concealing that
it had been opened. This discovery threw me into some confusion. I had
been tempted thus far by the belief that my action was without
witnesses, and might be forever concealed. This opinion was now
confuted. If Clithero should ever reclaim his property, he would not
fail to detect the violence of which I had been guilty. Inglefield would
disapprove in another what he had not permitted to himself, and the
unauthorized and clandestine manner in which I had behaved would
aggravate, in his eyes, the heinousness of my offence. But now there was no remedy. All that remained was to hinder suspicion
from lighting on the innocent, and to confess, to my friend, the offence
which I had committed. Meanwhile my first project was resumed, and, the
family being now wrapped in profound sleep, I left my chamber, and
proceeded to the elm. The moon was extremely brilliant, but I hoped that
this unfrequented road and unseasonable hour would hinder me from being
observed. My chamber was above the kitchen, with which it communicated
by a small staircase, and the building to which it belonged was
connected with the dwelling by a gallery.