“I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the jewel? Did he ever tell you anything?”
She shook her head.
“No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of course, I became excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that I couldn't help; that he had a clue, and that it might take time. From that night I saw very little of him. He leased the house on Chatterton Place. He seemed to lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly. He talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of a beautiful girl called Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr. Wendel, what is it? Has it really anything to do with father?”
I nodded.
“I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He is a very brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency; that much I know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it already. It covers life with a fog of decay. The same solitude has come upon myself. Nevertheless I am certain it has much to do with the Blind Spot. It is a key of some sort. The very interest of the Rhamda and the Nervina tells us that. I think it was through this stone that your father made his discovery.”
She thought a moment.
“Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you keep it, it will be only one more.”
“You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your father, and I was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the professor is right, one which man has sought through the ages. I'd be a coward to forgo my duty. If I fail, I have another to take my place.”
“Oh,” she said, “it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you; and afterwards it will be Mr. Fenton.”
“It is our duty,” I returned. “One by one. Though we may fail, each one of us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end we win. It is the way of man.”