And he had heard our discussion of the radium. He had even heard—yes, I remembered distinctly—he had even heard in what room the radium was in use and that the south door was to be left unlocked. To be sure, I might have been expected to lock the door following Dr. Letheny’s visit, but there were windows and—
Someone was knocking at the door and I had barely time to slip the cigarette case under the pillow. It was Miss Dotty, her eyes fairly popping with excitement.
“Where is the key to the closet in the south wing?”
“What closet? There are several—”
“I mean the closet in Room 18, of course. Do you have the key?”
“No. And I don’t know where it is. Who wants it?”
“They want it downstairs.”
“They?”
“That little, slim detective. He has just come. And oh, Miss Keate, he is so handsome,” she rolled her rather vacant eyes upward.
“Who is handsome?” I spoke somewhat snappishly. Miss Dotty’s rhapsodies aggravate me.
“That Mr. O’Leary. Just wait till you see him. Such a way of speaking! Such clothes! And his eyes are simply wonderful!” Miss Dotty appeared to recall herself from Mr. O’Leary’s charms with difficulty. “But I must hurry. They said if we couldn’t find the key they would have to take the door off the hinges.”
“Take the hinges off, you mean. Indeed they shan’t! That lovely gumwood door! They’ll be sure to scar it. Maybe some of the student nurses locked it. Ask them. Or—wait! I’ll come down myself.”
But Miss Dotty’s starched skirts were already scuttling away.
Before leaving the room, and not without a guilty feeling in my heart, I placed the cigarette case in a safe hiding place which was nothing more nor less than the bottom of my laundry bag. Almost without conscious volition on my part I had resolved to keep the matter of the cigarette case a secret and in my own possession, at least until I knew more certainly where my duty lay concerning it. It carried with it too grave an implication to act upon readily.
Then, still preoccupied, I took my way downstairs, through the main portion of St. Ann’s, past the general office, and turned into the corridor leading to the south wing. As I approached the chart desk, one of the student nurses seized upon me tearfully with a tale of Three’s hysterics, and wouldn’t I help for she had not the least idea what to do. There was nothing for it but to go to her assistance, much as I was interested in the proceedings in Room 18. And it was a good thing for me that I did! Otherwise I should have been in the room when they opened the closet door.
Three’s hysterics proved to be of an unusually stubborn kind, really virulent in fact, and though I was aware of a sort of subdued confusion and tremor of excitement outside the door I could not clearly understand what it was about. I heard faintly the sound of hammering, of feet running along the corridor, of a man’s voice calling out something indistinguishable, and a hastily hushed, woman’s scream which Three promptly and wilfully echoed. Then several people hurried through the hall, and as they passed the door I heard the unmistakable little metallic rattle of the wheels of the stretcher-truck, and caught the words—“Call Dr. Balman,” and something about an ambulance.
This was too much for me and I left my patient as soon as possible. No one was to be seen in the corridor, however, so I walked hurriedly down toward Room 18. Just as I reached it a policeman opened it, saw me, slid hastily through the narrow aperture and, closing the door, stood squarely before it.
“You can’t go in there, miss,” he said firmly.
“But—what has happened? What is all the commotion about?”
“You can’t go in there,” he repeated stupidly. To my surprise I saw that the man was actually frightened. His eyes were staring, his weather-beaten face a sort of yellow-green, and his breath coming in gasps. “You can’t go in there. You can’t—”
He seemed capable only of keeping me out of the room, so without wasting time or effort I turned about and retraced my steps. As I passed the linen-closet door I saw a group of nurses inside. One of them was lying back in a chair in a dead faint and the others were clustered around talking excitedly in low voices and nearly drowning the recumbent one with cold water.
“What on earth?” I exclaimed and at my voice they turned; one of them was frankly sobbing and the other two were white as ghosts.
“Oh, Miss K—K—” began one, her teeth chattering so she could not speak, while the others just stood there with their mouths opening and closing like so many fish. Naturally it was very trying and I believe I shook her till her teeth chattered in good earnest.
“Now tell me what has happened,” I said, releasing her shoulders.
“Oh, Miss Keate, the most terrible thing has—”
“Is this Miss Keate?” interrupted a clear voice from the doorway.
I whirled.
A man stood in the doorway; at the moment I was conscious only of a pair of extraordinarily lucid gray eyes; later I noted that he was slender and not very tall, that his gray business suit was well tailored, his gray socks of heavy silk and with a small scarlet thread, his scarf neatly knotted and chosen with care, his face clean-shaven, with clear rather delicately cut features, and that he wore an air of well-groomed prosperity. I knew
