THE building mentioned by my new-found friend was well known to me. It was one of the kind in which every other office is unoccupied the year round. Such tenants1 as gave it the little air of usefulness it possessed2 were of the bad-pay kind. They gave little concern to their own affairs and less to those of their neighbors. The public avoided the building, and the tenants did nothing to encourage a change. In a populous3 city, on the corner made by frequented streets, it stood as much alone and neglected as if it were a ruin. Old or young eyes may have looked through its begrimed windows into the busy thoroughfare beneath, but none in the street ever honored the old place with a glance or thought. No one even wasted contempt upon its smoky walls, and few disturbed the accumulated dust upon the stairs or in the dimly-lighted hallways.
Had a place been sought for wherein the utmost secrecy5 might be observed, surely this was that place. As I neared the door upon which I read the doctor’s name, I found myself treading on tip-toe, so impressed had I become by a sense of caution, if not of dread6.
I had made every effort to be on hand at precisely7 ten o’clock, and felt so sure that I had been the first to arrive that I reached out to the door-knob with every expectation of entering, unseen by any one, and possibly unheard. To my dismay, the first twist I gave it resulted in a rusty8 shriek9 that set my teeth on edge, and echoed down the gloomy hall. With my flesh creeping, I opened the door and passed into the doctor’s outer room.
It was far from being empty. Seated in chairs ranged along two sides of the room, I saw a dozen or more persons, male and female. All wore the preoccupied10 air that patients are apt to assume while awaiting their turn to be called by the doctor. One amongst the number made an effort at indifference11 by drawing out and pushing back a nail in the flooring with the sole of her pretty shoe. It may have been intended for coquetry, and at another time might have bewitched me; now it seemed strangely out of place. The man who was to all appearance counting the flies in the web of an industrious12 spider was more in keeping with the place, my feelings, and the atmosphere of despondency that the room gave out.
As I had no doubt that the ring I was seeking was in the possession of some one of these persons, I gave each as minute an examination as was possible under the circumstances. Only two amongst them appeared open to suspicion. Of these, one was a young man whose naturally fine features would have prepossessed him in my favor had it not been for the peculiar13 alertness of his bright blue eye, which flashed incessantly14 in every direction till each and all of us seemed to partake of his restlessness and anxiety. Why was he not depressed15? The other was the girl, or, rather, the young lady to whose pretty foot I have referred. If she was at all conspicuous16, it was owing to the contrast between her beautiful face and the Quaker-like simplicity17 of her dress. She was restless also; her foot had ceased its action, but her hand moved constantly. Now it clutched its fellow in her lap, and now it ran in an oft-repeated action, seemingly beyond her control, up and down and round and round a plain but expensive leather bag she wore at her side. “She carries the ring,” thought I, sitting down in the chair next her.
Meantime, I had not been oblivious18 of the box. It stood upon a plain oak table directly opposite the door by which I had come in. It was about a foot square, and was the only object in the room at all ornamental19. Indeed, there was but little else for the eye to rest on, consequently most of us looked that way, though I noticed that but few seemed to take any real interest in that or anything else within sight. This was encouraging, and I was on the point of transferring my entire attention to the two persons I have named, when one of them, the nearest, rose hurriedly and went out.
This was an unexpected move on her part, and I did not know what to make of it. Had I annoyed her by my scrutiny20, or had she divined my errand? In my doubt, I consulted the face of the man I secretly thought to be her accomplice21. It was non-committal, and, in my doubt as to the meaning of all this, I allowed myself to become interested in a pale young woman who had been sitting on the other side of the lady who had just left. She was evidently a patient who stood in great need of assistance. Her head hung feebly forward, and her whole figure looked ready to drop. Yet when a minute later the door of the inner office opened, and the doctor appeared on the sill in an expectant attitude, she made no attempt to rise, but pushed forward another woman who seemed less indisposed than herself. I had to compel myself to think of all I saw as being real and within my experience.
Surprised by this action on the part of one so ill, I watched the pale girl for an instant, and almost forgot my mission in the compassion22 aroused by her sickly appearance. But soon that mission and my motive23 for being in this place were somewhat vividly24 recalled to me by an unexpected action on this very young woman’s part. With the sudden movement of an acutely suffering person, she bounded from her seat and crossed the floor to where the box stood, gasping25 for breath, and almost falling against the table when she reached it.
A grunt26 from the good-looking young man followed; but neither he nor the middle-aged27 female with a pitiful skin disease, who had been sitting near her, offered to go to her assistance, though the latter looked as if she would like to. I was the only one to rise. The truth is, I could see no one touch the box without having something more than my curiosity awakened28. Approaching her respectfully, and with as complete a dissimulation29 of my real feelings as possible, I ventured to say:
“You are very ill, miss. Shall I summon the doctor?”
She was clutching the side of the table for support, and her head, drooping30 helplessly over the box, was swaying from side to side as she rocked to and fro in her pain.
“Thank you!” she gasped31, without turning, “I will wait. I would rather wait.”
At that moment the doctor’s door opened again.
“There he is now,” said I.
“I will wait,” she insisted. “Let the others take their turn.”
Satisfied now that something besides pain caused her interest in the box, I drew back, asking myself whether she had been in possession of the ring from the beginning, or whether it had been passed to her by her restless neighbor. Meanwhile, another patient had disappeared into the adjoining room.
A few minutes passed. The man with the restless eye began to fidget. Could it be that she was simply guarding the box, and that he was the one who wished to open it? As the doubt struck me, I surveyed her more attentively32. She was certainly doing something besides supporting herself with that sly right hand of hers. Yes, that was a click I heard. She was fitting a key into the lock. Startled, but determined33 not to betray myself, I assumed an air of great patience, and, taking a memorandum34 book from my pocket, began to write in it. Meantime, the doctor had disposed of his second patient and had beckoned35 to a third. To my astonishment36, my friend with the nervous manner responded, thus acquitting37 himself in my eyes from any interest in the box.
The interview he had with the doctor lasted some time; meantime, the young woman in the window remained more or less motionless. When the fourth person left the room, she turned and cast a quick glance at myself and the other person present.
I knew what it meant. She was anxious to be left alone in order to lift that mysterious lid. She was no more ill than I was.
There was even a ............