Claude Berthelot was a lone boy, inexperienced as he was rarely seen out of his house. When he was sixteen, his mother and younger sister disappeared soon after which his father was murdered. With whatever money he inherited, he appointed a search team to locate the rest of his family. On the same day of his father’s death, that happened to be his birthday, he received a box that strictly instructed him to open it on his eighteenth birthday.
This day came and his found a rusty, brass ring and a small key in the box he preserved for two years. The ring had a curved, sharp edge which could hurt anyone but the bearer. Having an affinity for antiques, Claude immediately wore it. As for the key, he added it as a pendant in his locket he always wore.
That eve, he received a letter, the kind that was seen in the Elizabethan age or maybe before. After opening it with great difficulty, he read it, letting fascination seize his mind. His eyes widened. He immediately packed a bag with whatever essentials he thought he might require on his trip to New York.
As soon as he reached NY with a great difficulty, taking into consideration that he hadn’t traveled much, he headed towards the Bank of New York using the torn map he brought with him. He summoned the first authority he saw in the bank and requested him to take him to the locker as mentioned in the letter. The man gave Claude a bunch of keys. After trying around seven keys, he realized he didn’t need them. He pulled out his locket key and twisted the lock open.
He found a small piece of paper and a huge amount of cash along with a formal note to the bank. Signed. The note gave him the contents legally.
The paper was blotted with excessive ink, but had an address on it. ‘Grand Mansion’ it said, along with the street name and local signs. It did not say which city. After several hours of research, he discovered the place in Denver. Something was keeping him off the hook. He left for the place immediately.
Three days later, he stood in front of the mansion. After an eternity full of interrogation and security check, he was let in, but not without warming the palms of the bouncers with crisp dollar bills. A man, tall and about age of forty and five, took him to a cabin, saying that Claude had to give a test. He was supposed to figure out how and open a large metal door. Although Claude was an introvert, he was well acquainted with Sherlock tactics. He would receive a penalty for each time he touched the door. Claude was no novice in this situation. He slapped two hundred dollar bills on his face and caressed the grooves carved into the metal. He knew his solution lay in one the many grooves, so he carefully inspected them. After squinting and prodding for an hour, he found a tiny groove on the bottom of the huge metallic structure that was shaped similar to his ring. He fitted the ring into the groove, twisting it slowly.
The door opened into a cabin with two sleeping figures. The larger figure woke up and switched the light on to find Claude. Her eyes widened and tears welled in them. She squeezed Claude into a bone-crushing hug before waking up the other person. They were none other than his beloved family. Tears flushed down his cheeks.
The letter said, “Dear Berthelot Junior, you have the key and the ring that you must have on you at all times. Now since you’re eighteen, you must go to New York, alone, open locker xxxxxxx in the most important bank there and do as the contents of the locker say. I am pretty much dead while you read this. ~Edwin Berthelot.”
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