"I'd rather you didn't talk about it," continued he, hurriedly. "Just put it in a safe place. Will you, please?"
"Certainly."
Puzzled, but unquestioning, Marcia thrust her hand beneath his sodden clothing and drew forth a small, flat box, wrapped in a bedraggled handkerchief.
"If you'll look out for it, I'll be tremendously obliged."
"Of course I will," smiled Marcia. "Is it valuable?"
The question, prompted by a desire to perform faithfully the service entrusted to her, rather than by curiosity, produced a disconcerting result.
The man's eyes fell.
"I shouldn't like to—to lose it," he stammered.
"I'll be careful. You yourself shall see where it is put. Look! Here is my pet hiding-place. This brick in the hearth is loose and under it is plenty of space for this small box. I'll tuck it in there. Just hold it a second until I pry the brick up. There we are! Now give it to me."
She reached hurriedly for the package, but as their hands met, the moist, clinging handkerchief became entangled in their fingers and slipping from its coverings a leather jewel-case dropped to the floor.