Dorian sprang from the chair and took out of her handbag a
number of small keys attached to a ring. Furtively she crossed the
room, all the time listening intently, and cast her cloak over the
back of the chair which was placed before the writing-table. Her robe
of white and gold clung to her shapely figure as she bent over the
table and tried three of the keys in the lock of the drawer which
contained Stuart's cheque-book and in which he had recently placed
the mysterious gold ornament. The third key fitted the lock, and Mlle.
Dorian pulled open the drawer. She discovered first the cheque-book
and next a private account-book; then from under the latter she drew
out a foolscap envelope sealed with red wax and bearing, in Stuart's
handwriting, the address:
Lost Property Office,
Metropolitan Police,
New Scotland Yard, S. W. I.
She uttered a subdued exclamation; then, as a spark of light gleamed
within the open drawer, she gazed as if stupefied at the little
ornament which she had suddenly perceived lying near the cheque-book.
She picked it up and stared at it aghast. A moment she hesitated;
then, laying down the fragment of gold and also the long envelope upon
the table, she took up the telephone. Keeping her eyes fixed upon the
closed door of the study, she asked for the number East 89512, and
whilst she waited for the connection continued that nervous watching
and listening. Suddenly she began to speak, in a low voice.
"Yes! ... Miska speaks. Listen! One of the new keys--it fits. I have
the envelope. But, also in the same drawer, I find a part of a broken
gold _'agrab_ (scorpion). Yes, it is broken. It must be they find it,
on him." Her manner grew more and more agitated. "Shall I bring it?
The envelope it is very large. I do not know if----"
From somewhere outside the house came a low, wailing cry--a cry which
Stuart, if he had heard it, must have recognized to be identical with
that which he had heard in the night--but which he had forgotten to
record in his written account.
"Ah!" whispered the girl--"there is the signal! It is the doctor who
returns." She listened eagerly, fearfully, to the voice which spoke
over the wires. "Yes--yes!"
Always glancing toward the door, she put down the instrument, took
up the long envelope and paused for a moment, thinking that she had
heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She exhibited signs of
nervous indecision, tried to thrust the envelope into her little bag
and realized that even folded it would not fit so as to escape
observation. She ran across to the grate and dropped the envelope
upon the smouldering fire. As she did so, the nicely balanced poker
fell with a clatter upon the tiled hearth.
She started wildly, ran back to the table, took up the broken ornament
and was about to thrust it into the open drawer, when the study door
was flung open and Stuart came in.
THE SEALED ENVELOPE
"MADEMOISELLE DORIAN!" cried Stuart joyously, advancing with
outstretched hand. She leaned back against the table watching him--and
suddenly he perceived the open drawer. He stopped. His expression
changed to one of surprise and anger, and the girl's slim fingers
convulsively clutched the table edge as she confronted him. Her
exquisite colour fled and left her pallid, dark-eyed and dismayed.
"So," he said bitterly--"I returned none too soon, Mlle.--_Dorian_"
"Oh! she whispered, and shrank from him as he approached nearer.
"Your object in selecting an obscure practitioner for your medical
adviser becomes painfully evident to me. Diagnosis of your case would
have been much more easy if I had associated your symptoms with the
presence in my table drawer of"--he hesitated--"of something which
you have taken out. Give me whatever you have stolen and compose
yourself to await the arrival of the police."
He was cruel in his disillusionment. Here lay the explanation of his
romance; here was his disguised princess--a common thief! She stared
at him wildly.
"I take nothing!" she cried. "Oh, let me go! Please, please let me go!"
"Pleading is useless. What have you stolen?"
"Nothing--see." She cast the little gold ornament on the table. "I
look at this, but I do not mean to steal it."
She raised her beautiful eyes to his face again, and he found himself
wavering. That she had made his acquaintance in order to steal the
fragment of the golden scorpion was impossible, for he had not
possessed it at the time of her first visit. He was hopelessly
mystified and utterly miserable.
"How did you open the drawer?" he asked sternly.
She took up the bunch of keys which lay upon the table and naively
exhibited that which fitted the lock of the drawer. Her hands were
shaking.
"Where did you obtain this key; and why?"
She watched him intently, her lips trembling and her eyes wells of
sorrow into which he could not gaze unmoved.
"If I tell you--will you let me go?"
"I shall make no promises, for I can believe nothing that you may
tell me. You gained my confidence by a lie--and now, by another lie,
you seem to think that you can induce me to overlook a deliberate
attempt at burglary--common burglary." He clenched his hands.
"Heavens! I could never have believed it of you!"
She flinched as though from a blow and regarded him pitifully as he
stood, head averted.
"Oh, please listen to me," she whispered. "At first I tell you a lie,
yes."
"And now?"
"Now--I tell you the truth."
"That