“Turn to the right,” she gasped. “We’ll park in the gutter.” As the car came to a standstill Anne dropped limply back in her seat. Curtis’ voice sounded miles away and there were dancing sparks in front of her eyes.
“There is a box of ammonia vaporoles in the right-hand pocket,” she stammered weakly as her head drooped forward. “I am so ashamed—” her voice died away entirely.
The box was tucked at the bottom of the leather pocket in the door, and Curtis had some difficulty in finding it. With one of the little ampules crushed in his hand, he bent over Anne and held it so that the fumes reached her. She was still only partly conscious when he lowered his hand to unfasten the high collar of her sport coat. As he dragged it back his signet ring caught in a fine gold chain which she wore around her neck and tucked under the front of her low-cut gown.
As Curtis strove to disengage his ring the chain swung back and its pendant struck his hand. It was a key. Instinctively his fingers traced the slightly raised lettering, “Yale,” and then slipped down the key. Mechanically he counted each notch and groove. Curtis drew in his breath sharply. The key was identically the same as the one marked “duplicate” in Meredith’s safe deposit box. How came it to be in Anne’s possession?
A long-drawn sigh from Anne aroused Curtis. Without taking thought, he pressed back the catch of the chain and released the key. As he secreted it carefully in his pocket he slipped the chain inside Anne’s gown again.
“Do you feel better?” he asked, as Anne raised her head.
“Yes.” She struggled upright. “It was silly of me to faint. I am mortified—”
“You need not be,” quickly. “It was a ghastly run down that hill. It won’t be possible to drive this car back. Do you know where we are?”
“We have passed Gaithersburg,” she replied. “There is a farmhouse back in the field there. We have stopped almost in front of its gate—”
“Don’t get out,” exclaimed Curtis, as she half rose. She sank back again, conscious that her knees were shaking under her. “I can make my way to the house and will either telephone to Rockville for a car to run us back, or get one of the inmates of this farmhouse to take us to Washington. They probably have a car.”