“Little boys,” said Mrs. Tremain, laughing, “shouldn’t make remarks like that. They lead to trouble.”
Young Howard flushed angrily as Mrs. Tremain said this. He did not seem to mind it when Glendenning accused him of his youth, but he didn’t like it coming from her.
Meanwhile Glendenning was examining the ring, and suddenly it came apart in his hand. The coils of the snake were still linked together, but instead of composing one solid ring they could now be spread several inches apart like the links of a golden chain. Mrs. Tremain turned pale, and gave a little shriek, as she saw this.
“Put it together again,” she cried; “put it together quickly.”
“What is the matter?” said Glendenning, looking up at her. She was standing two or three steps above him; Glendenning was at the bottom of the stair; young Howard stood on the same step as Mrs. Tremain, and I was a step or two above them.
“Put it together,” cried Mrs. Tremain again. “I am trying to,” said Glendenning, “is there a spring somewhere?”
“Oh, I cannot tell you,” she answered, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands; “but if you do not put it together without help, that means very great ill-luck for both you and me.”
“Does it?” said Glendenning, looking up at her with a peculiar glance, quite ignoring our presence.
“Yes, it does,” she said; “try your best to put that ring together as you found it.” It was quite evident that Mrs. Tremain had all the superstition of Mexico.
Glendenning fumbled with the ring one way and another, and finally said, “I cannot put it together.”