‘Wait one moment,’ cried Walpole, as the other was about to leave the room. ‘Do you see a small tray on that table yonder, with some trinkets? Yes, that is it. Well, will you do me the favour to choose something amongst them as your fee? Come, come, you know you are my doctor now, and I insist on this. There’s nothing of any value there, and you will have no misgivings.’
‘Am I to take it haphazard?’ asked Atlee.
‘Whatever you like,’ said the other indolently.
‘I have selected a ring,’ said Atlee, as he drew it on his finger.
‘Not an opal?’
‘Yes, it is an opal with brilliants round it.’
‘I’d rather you’d taken all the rest than that. Not that I ever wear it, but somehow it has a bit of memory attached to it!’
‘Do you know,’ said Atlee gravely, ‘you are adding immensely to the value I desired to see in it? I wanted something as a souvenir of you—what the Germans call an Andenken, and here is evidently what has some secret clue to your affections. It was not an old love-token?’
‘No; or I should certainly not part with it.’
‘It did not belong to a friend now no more?’