“Something in this room?”
A violent blinking.
“Is it in a drawer?”
The eyelids were steady.
“Then I can see it as I stand here?”
The eyes blinked again. Pauline set the cup down on the night-table, and gazed round the room. She went to the mantelpiece, and gave a list of the things on it: candlestick, clock, matches, vases, keys, medicine-bottle, a piece of crochet work, a long knitting-needle, a picture post-card. There was no response from the invalid.
“How foolish I am!” murmured Pauline. “She cannot possibly want any of these things.” Then she saw a few old letters half-hidden behind the clock. “Is it there?” she asked, holding the letters near to Mrs. Ilam.
But there was still no response. She put back the letters and went to the ottoman, on which was a large family Bible. But it was not the Bible that Mrs. Ilam wanted, nor a spectacle case that lay on the Bible. Then Pauline catalogued one by one the contents of the dressing-table, and then the contents of the washstand, still with no result. At last, she came to a chest of drawers, covered with a piece of white crewelwork, and bearing some wax flowers, two small vases, a black lacquered box, sundry folded linen, several books, and a few faded photographs. She described the photographs and the linen and the books, as these seemed to be the most likely objects, and then she came to the lacquered box. And suddenly, the eyes began to blink furiously.
“You want this box?”
The eyes continued to blink.