hasp

Grace used the pointed edge of her shovel to pop up the hasp.

There was a rusty hasp—a slotted hinged metal plate—fitted over a loop for a lock, but there was no lock.

“We can use the hasp as a lever to open this lid.”

The books on the book shelf were gone; the padlocked closet stood open, empty; the unfastened lock swung open from the hasp.

It bounced off, lodging deep between the hasp and the woodwork.