The Ivory Snuff Box

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

All during the afternoon of the day upon which she had first met her husband during his confinement at Dr. Hartmann's, Grace Duvall wandered about the place, looking for him, waiting with growing fears for his appearance. When evening came, and she had failed to find him, she became greatly alarmed. In her excitement, she forgot the word she had agreed to send into Brussels by the boy who drove the delivery wagon, and was just returning to the house when she heard someone calling to her from the drive. She turned and saw that it was the bread boy, who had stopped his cart some little distance from the veranda.

"Mademoiselle," he called, "you have dropped your handkerchief." He pointed with his whip to a white object which lay in the roadway close beside the wheels of the cart. She had not dropped her handkerchief—she knew that it was at that moment tightly clenched in her left hand, but she understood.

"Thank you," she called, and hurried toward him. The boy, meanwhile, had climbed down from the wagon, and picking up the handkerchief, which he had himself secretly dropped, handed it to her, with a polite bow. She felt, as she clutched the bit of linen, that within it lay a note.

"He is here," she said quickly, in an undertone. "The box is safe. It is hidden. They have not yet discovered it. But I am afraid something terrible has happened to Mr. Duvall. Tell them to send help, quick." She turned away, and the boy mounted his box, whistling gayly, and at once drove off.

Grace hurried to her room, to examine the note within the handkerchief. She could hardly wait to see what it contained. The contents were a great disappointment to her. "Leave the house about ten o'clock to-morrow morning," it said. That was all. She had already decided to do this, in order to effect, if possible, her husband's release. So far as the snuff box was concerned, she felt that she did not care whether the doctor discovered it or not, if only she might know that Richard was safe. All during the evening she wandered aimlessly about the house, hoping each minute that she might come upon him, but her search was in vain. Richard Duvall seemed to have vanished completely.

Once she met the doctor, just as she had given up in despair and was returning to her room. He spoke pleasantly enough, asked her how she felt, and showed much concern that she had refused to eat any supper. "You must eat, mademoiselle," he told her. "Have you taken regularly the tonic I prescribed?" She nodded, not considering it necessary to inform him that she had carefully poured it, dose by dose, into the sink. For a moment she thought of asking him what had become of Mr. Brooks, but she feared to rouse his suspicions. "I'm feeling somewhat out of sorts," she said. "I'll be all right in the morning."

"I am gratified to observe," he remarked, as she left him, "that you had no tendency to walk in your sleep last night. I trust the improvement will continue. Good-night." She could not determine whether or not there lay any hidden meaning back of his words. His mirthless smile somehow made her feel uncomfortable.

His words, however, inspired her to form a new plan. She would go to the laboratory that night, if she could by any means escape the vigilance of the woman on guard in the hall, and find out, if possible, whether or not Richard was confined there. From the windows of her room, which faced the rear of the house, she could see plainly the small square brick building in which the laboratory was located. There were lights in the floor on a level with her windows—that, she knew, was the room in which she had seen Hartmann sitting at his desk, on the night of her arrival. But there were, she knew, rooms both above and below this one, and in the latter lay hidden the Ambassador's snuff box. Was Richard confined there, as well? She determined to find out.

The woman who sat on watch in the hall came to her room at half-past ten and looked in to see if she required anything. Grace, who was just getting into bed, told her that she did not, said good-night sleepily, and asked her to turn off the lights. The woman did so, and closing the door softly, retired.

Grace lay in bed a long time, wondering how she could get down the hall, and into the passageway leading to the laboratory, without being observed. There seemed no possible way of accomplishing this, yet she was determined to attempt it. Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint ringing of an electric bell. She knew it was the one in the hall, near where the nurse sat, by which any of the patients, desiring her presence during the night, might summon her to their rooms. Grace slipped out of bed, opened her door the slightest crack, so that she could command a view of the hall, and peered out. She saw the nurse coming toward her with a glass of water in her hand. She disappeared for a moment into a room across the corridor, then reappeared almost at once and resumed her seat at the head of the stairs.