“The conditions,” repeated the doctor, in no wise abashed, “were these: That it should occupy the large table in the window as long as they saw fit. That, though placed in my room, it should be regarded as the property of the society which owned it, and, consequently, free to the inspection of its members but to no one else. That I should know these members by their ability to open the box, and that so long as these persons confined their visits to my usual hours for patients, they were to be subject to no one’s curiosity, nor allowed to suffer from any one’s interference. In return for these slight concessions, I was to receive five dollars for every day I allowed it to stay here, payment to be made by mail.”
“Good business! And you cannot tell the names of the persons with whom you entered into this contract?”
“No; the one who came to me first and saw to the placing of the box and all that, was a short, sturdy fellow, with a common face but very brilliant eye; he it was who made the conditions; but the man who came to get it, and who paid me twenty dollars for opening my office door at an unusual hour, was a more gentlemanly man, with a thick, brown mustache and resolute look. He was accompanied–”
“Why do you stop?”
The doctor smiled.
“I was wondering,” said he, “if I should say he was accompanied, or that he accompanied, a woman, of such enormous size that the doorway hardly received her. I thought she was a patient at first, for, large as she is, she was brought into my room in a chair, which it took four men to carry. But she only came about the box.”
“Madame!” I muttered; and being made still more eager by this discovery of her direct participation in its carrying off, I asked if she touched the box or whether it was taken away unopened.
The doctor’s answer put an end to every remaining hope I may have cherished.
“She not only touched but opened it. I saw the lid rise and heard a whirr. What is the matter, sir?”
“Nothing,” I made haste to say—“that is, nothing I can communicate just now. This woman must be followed,” I signified to the officer, and was about to rush from the room when my eye fell on the table where the box stood.
“See!” said I, pointing to a fine wire protruding from a small hole in the center of its upper surface; “this box had connection with some point outside of this room.”
The doctor’s face flushed, and for the first time he looked a trifle foolish.
“So I perceive now,” said he, “The workman who put up this box evidently took liberties in my absence. For that I was not paid.”
“This wire leads where?” asked the officer.
“Rip up the floor and see. I know no other way to find out.”
“But that would take time, and we have not a minute to lose,” said I, and was disappearing for the second time when I again stopped. “Doctor,” said I, “when you consented to harbor this box under such peculiar conditions and allowed yourself to receive such good pay for a service involving so little inconvenience to yourself, you must have had some idea of the uses to which so mysterious an article would be put. What did you suppose them to be?”
“To tell you the truth, I thought it was some new-fangled lottery scheme, and I have still to learn that I was mistaken.”
I gave him a look, but did not stop to undeceive him.
VI. THE BOX AGAIN
But one resource was left: to warn Mr. S– of his peril. This was not so easy a task as might appear. To make my story believed, I should be obliged to compromise Miss Calhoun, and Mr. S–‘s well-known chivalry, as far as women are concerned, would make the communication difficult on my part, if not absolutely impossible. I, however, determined to attempt it, though I could not but wish I were an older man, with public repute to back me.
Though there was but little in Mr. S–‘s public life which I did not know, I had little or no knowledge of his domestic relations beyond the fact that he was a widower with one child. I did not even know where he lived. But inquiry at police headquarters soon settled that, and in half an hour after leaving the doctor’s office I was at his home.
It was a large, old-fashioned dwelling, of comfortable aspect; too comfortable, I thought, for the shadow of doom, which, in my eyes, overlay its cheerful front, wide-open doors and windows. How should I tell my story here! What credence could I expect for a tale so gruesome, within walls warmed by so much sunshine and joy. None, possibly; but my story must be told for all that.
Ringing the bell hurriedly, I asked for Mr. S–. He was out of town. This was my first check. When would he be home? The answer gave me some hope, though it seemed to increase my difficulties. He would be in the city by eight, as he had invited a large number of guests to his house for the evening. Beyond this, I could learn nothing.
Returning immediately to Miss Calhoun, I told her what had occurred, and tried to impress upon her the necessity I felt of seeing Mr. S– that night. She surveyed me like a woman in a dream. Twice did I have to repeat my words before she seemed to take them in; then she turned hurriedly, and going to a little desk standing in one corner of the room, drew out a missive, which she brought me. It was an invitation to this very reception which she had received a week before.
“I will get you one,” she whispered. “But don’t speak to him, don’t tell him without giving me some warning. I will not be far from you. I think I will have strength for this final hour.”
“God grant that your sacrifice may bear fruit,” I said, and left her.
To enter, on such an errand as mine, a brilliantly illuminated house odoriferous with flowers and palpitating with life and music, would be hard for any man. It was hard for me. But in the excitement of the occasion, aggravated as it was by a presage of danger not only to myself but to the woman I had come so near loving, I experienced a calmness, such as is felt in the presence of all mortal conflicts. I made sure that this was reflected in my face before leaving the dressing-room, and satisfied that I would not draw the attention of others by too much or too little color, I descended to the drawing-room and into the presence of my admired host.
I had expected to confront a handsome man, but not of the exact type that he presented. There was a melancholy in his expression I had not foreseen, mingled with an attraction from which I could not escape after my first hurried glimpse of his features across the wide room. No other man in the room had it to so great a degree, nor was there any other who made so determined an effort to throw off care and be simply the agreeable companion. Could it be that any other warning had forestalled mine, or was this his habitual manner and expression? Finding no answer to this question, I limited myself to the duty of the hour, and advancing as rapidly as possible through the ever-increasing throng, waited for the chance to speak to him for one minute alone. Meantime, I satisfied myself that the two detectives sent from police headquarters were on hand. I recognized them among a group of people at the door.
Whether intentionally or not, Mr. S – had taken up his stand before the conservatory, and as in my endeavors to reach him I approached within sight of this place, I perceived the face of Miss Calhoun shining from amid its greenery, and at once remembered the promise I had made her. She was looking for me, and, meeting my eyes, made me an imperceptible gesture, to which I felt bound to respond.
Slipping from the group with which I was advancing, I stole around to a side door towards which she had pointed, and in another moment found myself at her side. She was clothed in velvet, which gave to her cheek and brow the colorlessness of marble.
“He is not as ignorant of his position as we thought,” said she. “I have been watching him for an hour. He is in anticipation of something. This will make our task easier.”