“Box, sir?”
“Where—is—it?”
“Which box, sir? Is it this one here on the floor?”—lifting the olive-wood box in its case. The key was in the lock; the other keys hung from it, dangling on a steel ring.
The nurse stepped calmly into the room.
“Steward,” she said in her low, pleasant voice, “the sedative I gave him has probably confused his mind a little––”
“Put that box—under—my head,” interrupted Neeland’s voice like a groan.
“I tell you,” whispered the nurse, “he doesn’t know what he is saying.” 208
“I got to obey him, ma’am––”
“I forbid you––”
“Steward!” gasped Neeland.