Chatham made a grasp for the jewel case with its precious contents. Palermo drew away, and stopped the other man with raised hand.
“Easy, Chatham,” he said. “Remember, I am your friend.”
“But it is mine!” exclaimed Chatham. “I must keep it! I shall always be cursed with it!
“Harriman did not die until he lost it. While I carry it, my life is safe. Once out of my hands, it will bring me death—”
“Relax!” commanded Doctor Palermo. “Let me talk to you, Chatham.
“I can help you. I can put an end to your troubles and your fears. Sit back in your chair.”
Horace Chatham obeyed. He lay back in the chair and reclined his head so that it nearly rested against the oak paneling of the wall. He watched Palermo deftly remove the purple sapphire from its case.
“A beautiful gem,” observed the physician. “Strange that those who hold it should fear it. I would not dread its curse, if it were mine!”
The words soothed Chatham. He half smiled as he looked at the gem which Doctor Palermo held. So intent was his mind on it that he was utterly oblivious to all else.
THE panel behind Horace Chatham’s head slid noiselessly to one side. The action followed a motion by Doctor Palermo — a simple gesture in which the physician raised the forefinger of his left hand.