“You should again obtain possession of the Arnoldus. It may help you,” was her curious recommendation.
It was on the point of my tongue to say that it was already in my possession; but my natural caution again asserted itself. The woman was one whom I should deal with diplomatically in order to learn her motive.
“Perhaps you can tell me where it is?” I suggested.
“In the hands of an Englishman named Selby, who lives in that house in Harpur Street which you quitted this evening.”
Then she was evidently unaware that Selby had suffered its loss, and as far as I could judge she seemed dealing honestly with me. This fact puzzled me more than ever. Suddenly I recollected that mysterious sign in the window, and I asked her the meaning of the bear cub.
“Yes,” she answered with a sudden gravity that had not hitherto fallen upon her. “I saw it there today,” she added slowly. “It has a signification, as you suspect.”
“An evil one?”
“Yes, an evil one—stranger than you could ever guess.”
“Will you not tell me?”
But again she shook her head, and declared that a silence was imposed upon her regarding it, as upon other matters. She had merely sought me in order to warn me, an innocent and unsuspecting man, against falling into the cunningly prepared trap laid for me.