Concerned almost as much with this evidence of Jim Gainsay’s duplicity as with Higgins’s tale, I stood stock-still there in that thicket, with wet branches and leaves pressing against me on all sides. Aware finally of a specially rude one scratching my neck I roused myself, pushed out into the path, and took my way back to St. Ann’s.
The thing to do, I realized, was to let O’Leary know at once of Higgins’s story; if anyone could worm the whole tale from the janitor it would be Lance O’Leary. But I shall have to confess that baffled curiosity overcame me, and I resolved to get hold of Higgins immediately and try to make him tell me, at least, whom he saw there in Room 18.
The supper bell was ringing when I entered the south wing. I am not one to slight meals as a rule, but that was one time when I ignored the summons. However, Higgins was not about and upon inquiry someone said she thought he had gone into town. Reluctantly, then, I went to supper.
At the door of the dining room I met several training girls. Melvina Smith was among them and they were talking excitedly in low voices which they hushed as soon as they saw me, and one and all looked guilty.
“Well, what is it?” I said briskly.
Melvina Smith fastened hollow eyes upon me and said in a sepulchral voice:
“Accident has died.”
“Accident!” Having for the moment forgotten the christening party I was at a loss to understand her cryptic utterance, and wondered if she was quite right.
“Accident,” confirmed Melvina. “The third tragedy is on its way.”
“I must say I don’t in the least know what you are talking about,” I remarked acidly. Melvina is very trying and carries an element of conviction in her tones that makes one feel as if she is well informed.
“Accident. The kitten, you know. The black kitten,” volunteered one of the girls hurriedly. “It died and Melvina says—” her eyes got larger and she lowered her voice—“Melvina says—it is a sign!”
“Oh, the kitten! What nonsense!”
“He was not sick,” said Melvina in a measured and undisturbed way. “He was not sick at all. He was, in fact, the healthiest of the whole batch. But—he died.”
And would you believe it I felt gooseflesh coming out on my arms? Melvina was never intended for as matter-of-fact a profession as that of a nurse; her talents are wasted.
“Nonsense,” I said again, and repeated it. “Nonsense.”
“It is a sign,” remarked Melvina in that quietly positive way. She reached quite casually into her capacious pocket and drew out before our very eyes the kitten. It was, to be sure, dead and quite stiff and stark. All of us shrank back at the sight of the poor little black body with its stiff claws outstretched and its mouth open and grinning, but Melvina regarded it familiarly. “It was a perfectly healthy kitten,” she went on, in the manner of the scientist who weighs facts impartially. “It died. All at once. Just died. No reasons for it. But it died. It is a sign.”
A little gasp went over the group and I found my tongue.
“Melvina Smith,” I said, “take that kitten out into the orchard and bury it. Then change your uniform and scrub your hands with antiseptic soap. How long have you been carrying that thing around? Not that it matters,” I went on hastily as Melvina opened her too-gifted mouth to reply. “Don’t ever let me catch you doing such a thing again. Moreover, if I hear of you saying such foolish and—yes, wicked things again I shall have Miss Dotty give you fifty demerits and that means no Sundays off for the rest of the summer.”
“Miss Dotty already knows about it,” said one of the other girls. “Melvina had it on the table showing it to us at theory class and Miss Dotty didn’t see it and put her hand on it.”
“She was sick,” added another girl solemnly. “She was real sick, all at once. We wanted to practice ‘What to Do for Nausea’ on her but she didn’t give us time.”
“She is in her room now,” concluded the first girl with a passionate devotion to detail. “She is in her room with a hot-water bottle and an ice bag and a bottle of camphor.”
“Well,” I said abruptly, feeling very much as if I were going to imitate Miss Dotty, “take that—er—kitten outdoors at once, Melvina.”
“Yes, Miss Keate,” said Melvina dutifully. “Do you have second watch in the south wing tonight, Miss Keate?”
“Certainly.”
“My‑y‑y!” Melvina sucked in her breath. “Something will be sure to happen. May I help you, Miss Keate?”
“Good gracious, Melvina!” I cried, revolted. “Do you mean to say you would want to be there if anything did happen?”
“Oh—no,” she said reluctantly, eyeing the kitten fondly. “But something will happen. Soon. It is a sign.”
“Melvina!” I must have spoken firmly for Melvina wasted no time in going about her burying and the rest of the girls hastened on down to supper.
It was just after supper that I was called to the telephone.
It was O’Leary, and his voice seemed very far away.
“Is there anyone else in the office?” he asked.
“No.”
“Is this line private? Is there a way for anyone to listen in?”
“No.”
“Then listen, Miss Keate. I can’t get out to the hospital right now and there is something I want to know. Has anything—any article of furniture—any—er—bed linen—blankets—pillows—anything of the sort, been taken out of the room we are interested in?”
“Only the soiled linens,” I replied.
There was a long silence, so long that I repeated my answer.
“Yes, I heard you,” he said hastily. “Are you positive about that? Think hard, Miss Keate.”
“Not another thing—oh, yes, last night I exchanged the loud speaker in that room for another.”
“You did!” His voice was eager. “When? Before or after I was in the room?”
“Before!”
“Sure?”
“Yes. The patient
