The thought of her caused him to glance about nervously, and in a moment he saw her coming toward him from the direction of the house. She appeared to be looking for him, yet when she saw him, she seemed in doubt as to what to do. Duvall went up to her. "Good-morning, Miss Ellicott," he said, in a voice clearly audible within the house, were any of the windows open. He fancied he detected Hartmann's dark face peering at him from the waiting-room.
"Good-morning, Mr. Brooks," she said, affecting great surprise at seeing him. "You are here still?"
"Oh, yes." His tone was careless, but as he spoke he moved in a direction away from the house, and toward a small bench that stood beside the driveway. "Dr. Hartmann concluded that I needed treatment—I'm afflicted with loss of memory, it seems. Beautiful day, isn't it?"
She murmured some response, waiting for him to speak again. Presently he judged the distance from the house sufficiently great. No one was near enough to possibly overhear them.
"The snuff box is hidden—sewn inside of the false crown of my opera hat," he said, in a low voice. "It is in the room under the doctor's laboratory. He does not know it is there, and I don't dare try to get it, for fear he will find out. If you have a chance—" He paused.
"I understand."
"But be careful—very careful."
"I will." They sat down upon the bench toward which they had been headed. "I had thought of seeing Mr. Phelps to-day, and asking him to have you released."
"It would be useless," he said. "I cannot go without the snuff box."
"Shall I send word to our friends in Brussels?" she asked.