Yet my belief in the correctness of the veiled mental impulse remained unshaken. The design was a facsimile of some object in this house; something my eyes had rested upon, albeit without the existence at the time of any occasion to fix it upon my mind; but conjure my brain as I would, I could not recall where or when.
When Stodger returned, I determined at last, I would set him at work searching for the odd symbol, or whatever it might be. When I made this resolve I was standing beside the old walnut table at the head of Mr. Page's bed; with a forefinger I idly traced the design in the dust on the artificial leather cover, beside the impress made by the jewel-box.
My preoccupation was broken in upon by the arrival of the undertaker's men. It would not do—if the ruby was really beneath this roof—to grant any strangers unrestricted privileges of the house; at least not without keeping a heedful eye upon their movements. Alexander Burke, I shrewdly suspected, was equal to any subterfuge or ruse to obtain the jewel, and I did not mean to be caught napping.
No small responsibility is involved in safeguarding $500,000—the amount Maillot declared his uncle had paid for the ruby—particularly when the guardian himself does not know precisely where the treasure lies. It would not do to take any chances. Otherwise, if the amount had been materially less, or had been in a form not so easily disposed of about the person or by thrusting it into a convenient cranny, or, perhaps, even tossing it unseen through a window to a waiting confederate on the outside, my wisest course might have been to permit Burke, or whoever knew where the jewel was, to lead me to its hiding-place. But I must be vigilant, always alert; there would be little sleep for me until I had this extraordinary gem safe in my hands.
So I remained with the undertaker's men until they departed with the body.
As I turned to reënter the house Stodger's portly form hove into view. He dropped into one of the library's big easy-chairs.
"Whew!" he gasped. "I'm a peach of a shadow, ain't I? Nice work for one of my build. Say! That fellow Burke—Alexander Stilwell—he 's the—you know—most restless party I ever saw. If Fanshawe had n't relieved me when he did I 'd be worked down to about middle-weight by this time."
"Anything particular?" I inquired.
"Er—no. You know he came back here. Rest o' the time he spent dodging in and out of old Page's offices at the Drovers' National. Walk like a house afire for—m'm-m—maybe a block; next time maybe six blocks."
"Well?"