The tin was covered in orange rust, the lid sealed tight by years of dirt.

I used a sharp stone from the path to scrape the grime from the seam.

With a hard twist, the lid popped off.

Inside lay Garrett’s old silver ring, tarnished almost black.

Beside the ring was a small brass key.

It was clean, wrapped tightly in a piece of oiled cloth to protect it from the damp.

I held the key in my palm, staring at it.

I knew exactly what this key unlocked.

Garrett had an old floor safe in his private study upstairs.

He had always told his children the safe was broken and empty.

He had even left the door of it unlocked and open for years to prove it.

But I remembered him working on the safe late one night when he thought I was asleep.

I wrapped the key back in the cloth and put it in my pocket.

I stood up, my knees aching from the cold ground.

I looked back at the grand house, its windows reflecting the gray sky.