It was in the pin-cushion, a pretty trifle of mauve taffeta ruffles that I picked up idly to examine more closely. When I felt the shape under the taffeta, when my fingers outlined it, I could not have resisted tearing it apart. The cotton stuffing had been removed and the small box that held the radium was there instead.
I don’t know how long I stood as if frozen to the spot. I remember noting that the neat sewing had been torn out as if hastily, and that wide hurried stitches held the seam together. And I remember hearing the voices of several girls passing in the hall outside and thinking that Maida would be coming to her room.
O’Leary had said: “The person who has the radium is the one that killed Higgins.”
I could not face Maida with this thing in my hand.
And I could not leave the radium where it was.
In another moment I found myself back in my room, the radium, pin-cushion and all, locked away, the key securely hidden and my mind made up. Painful though it was I should have to tell O’Leary immediately of this thing. I do not hold friendship lightly and the shock of finding the stolen radium in Maida’s possession almost unnerved me.
I had forgotten about the buttons and it was something of an anti-climax to catch myself starting down to dinner in a black silk kimono. I had to go to the bottom of my trunk for an old uniform that I had cast aside as being too tight. It was still too tight and very uncomfortable, being made with a Bishop collar which is high and stiff and scratched the lobes of my ears.
There was no need to telephone to O’Leary, for as I neared the general office I caught a glimpse of his smooth brown head bent over some papers on the long table. I entered.
“I have found the radium,” I said quietly.
He looked up, jumped to his feet. I did not need to repeat my words.