“No. Everybody wears a yellow slicker. You know how popular they have been the last year or two.”
He nodded.
“I wear one myself,” he said. “Well, thanks a lot, Miss Keate. You are a present help in time of trouble.” He smiled at me with that engagingly warm and youthful look.
I started toward the hall, paused and turned around.
“Didn’t you say there were three things you were particularly interested in right now?” I said. “What is the third one?”
“Oh, yes.” He studied me for a moment as if to see how far the discretion with which he had complimented me might be trusted. Then he drew something from his pocket—something so small that it was hidden in his hand until he held it toward me.
And when I looked, I cried out and shrank back, my heart leaping to my throat. There on his outstretched palm lay a small cuff link; it was a neat square of lapis lazuli, set in engraved white gold.
“I see that you recognize it?”
Speechlessly, I made a motion of assent.
“You need not tell me that it is Miss Day’s. I already know that. One or two of the nurses recognized it as I left it casually on the table in the general office. Oh, I watched it carefully—I suppose they thought she had lost it. They did not know where it was found.”