“No.” O’Leary shook his head decisively. “No. I must put it in the hands of the chief of police at once. Look here, Miss Keate; in three minutes I shall walk slowly across the main hall with this bundle of newspapers under my arm. At the foot of the stairway I shall pass you just descending. It is rather dark there by the stairs. Hand me the box and keep right on going. Don’t stop. Later I shall see you and hear how you found it.”
I followed his bidding. As I came slowly down the last flight of stairs he walked carelessly across the hall. There was no one about and I was sure that the transfer was effected without anyone’s knowledge.
With a casual nod I went on around the turn and followed the basement stairs down to the dining room. I ate what was set before me and kept my eyes from Maida.
It must have been about twenty minutes later that I ascended the stairs again and paused in the main hall. There was a light in the general office, excited voices, and Dr. Hajek and Dr. Balman were bending over something that lay on the long table.
I entered.
Lance O’Leary was stretched on the table, his face lead-gray, his eyes closed. Dr. Balman had out his stethoscope and was listening intently and Dr. Hajek was forcing aromatic ammonia through O’Leary’s pale lips.
There was a rapidly swelling lump back of O’Leary’s right ear and the small box that was so precious was not to be seen.
At a glance I understood.
“Is he—alive, Dr. Balman?”
Dr. Balman nodded, detaching the stethoscope with long hands that shook.