“He will not know a thing about what has happened there,” I interrupted very rudely and not at all in accordance with professional etiquette. “We’ve got to use the room sometime. Why not now?”
“Yes,” agreed Dr. Hajek, surveying me absently. “Yes, I suppose so. Yes. Did you say he comes this afternoon?”
“About six o’clock,” said Miss Jones, and with a nod he swung toward the inner office.
Thinking that I must see that Room 18 was in order, I hurried toward the south wing. The room had not been cleaned beyond a brief straightening up, so I sent two nurses to clean it and went along myself to superintend the affair.
It was not pleasant to open that door, but I had opened it under still less agreeable circumstances. The room was very gloomy and cold with dismal shadows on the white walls, and the window panes so beaded with moisture that the gray light from outside filtered but faintly into the place. I relented so far as to turn on the electric light, which threw the whole room into sharp relief, and the two girls set to work.
The air was stale, so I crossed to the low window near the porch, unlocked the catch and flung it wide, letting in the damp mist. I stood there, thinking of the intruder of the previous night. Who had been in this room? What had been his purpose? What would O’Leary say when I told him of it? Had the visitor escaped by this window? I looked at the wide sill. There was a screen there, to be sure, but it worked on a spring catch and could easily be opened from either side, this to facilitate the shaking of rugs and dusters and the adjusting of awnings. Idly I pushed back the screen, running my finger along the sill. I was about to close it again when a faint reflection of light from something in the corner of the sill caught my eye. I leaned toward that corner to look more closely, reached out and slowly turned the tiny flat thing over with my fingernail.
It was a gold sequin!
I should never have seen it save for that minute reflection of light, for the upper surface was all tarnished and stained, though the under side was still bright. A wisp of frayed green thread still clung to the small hole for a needle at the top of the flimsy bit of metal.
I needed no one to tell me from where the thing had come; the night of June seventh Corole Letheny had worn a dress of gold sequins cunningly arranged over net with flashes of green here and there.
And it did not seem probable to me that she had worn the gown since that night.