The Count of Monte Cristo

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When he drew near to the bedroom door, Monte Cristo expected that he was
coming in, and raised one of his pistols; but he simply heard the sound
of the bolts sliding in their copper rings. It was only a precaution.
The nocturnal visitor, ignorant of the fact that the count had removed
the staples, might now think himself at home, and pursue his purpose
with full security. Alone and free to act as he wished, the man then
drew from his pocket something which the count could not discern, placed
it on a stand, then went straight to the secretary, felt the lock, and
contrary to his expectation found that the key was missing. But the
glass-cutter was a prudent man who had provided for all emergencies. The
count soon heard the rattling of a bunch of skeleton keys, such as the
locksmith brings when called to force a lock, and which thieves call
nightingales, doubtless from the music of their nightly song when they
grind against the bolt. "Ah, ha," whispered Monte Cristo with a smile of
disappointment, "he is only a thief."

But the man in the dark could not find the right key. He reached the