It was near morning by that time, and Maida and I had to work rapidly to get our patients washed and tooth-brushed and ready for the breakfast trays. To my satisfaction no one from the other wings appeared to have heard Corole’s scream, or to know that there had been any disturbance in the south wing.

The morning passed quietly. I took a long-needed rest and did not see O’Leary until I came downstairs about the middle of the afternoon. Somewhat to my disappointment, for I had anticipated telling him myself, he knew all about Corole’s visit. Dr. Balman had told him of it. O’Leary said briefly that he had talked to Corole; I gathered that she stuck to her story of the previous night, even to the extent of embroidering rather elaborately on her cousinly affection for Dr. Letheny and her anxiety to know the cause of his death. O’Leary seemed somewhat perturbed, a result that would have delighted Corole had she known it.

“We have got bolts on the window,” said O’Leary. “Dr. Balman suggested it; at least there’ll be no more such visitors as last night.”

He did not linger. An hour or so later I slipped out the south door for a breath of fresh air. I glanced in at Room 18 as I passed. Sure enough there were shiny new bolts on the window. Mr. Gastin had evidently preferred the charity ward to Room 18, for he had not returned, though the pot of lobelias still stood on the table looking more jaundiced than ever.

If cold and damp, still the air was refreshing and I walked at a brisk pace along the path toward the bridge. I did not see that Higgins was following me until I paused to lean on the railing and stare at the muddy, swollen little stream below my feet. There the shrubbery grows so close to the bridge that it hangs over it and the water, and I was amusing myself by pulling dead leaves from a willow, bending near and tossing them into the little, swirling eddies of water when Higgins spoke suddenly at my elbow.

It startled me and I whirled to face him.

“Miss Keate,” he began again. “I⁠—Could you⁠—There is something I want to tell you.” He spoke in a hesitating, reluctant manner as if he were not sure he wanted to tell me, after all.

“What is it?” I inquired crisply.

He swallowed audibly and cleared his throat.

“I⁠—I’ve been wondering⁠—It is this way, Miss Keate. I want to know what you think I had better do.”

I squared around for a better look at him. He was rather pale and played nervously with his furnace-stained cap.

“What about, Higgins?” I said kindly.

He made a motion to speak, checked it and peered furtively up and down the path. Owing to its twisting he could not see very far either way, so he leaned over toward me and spoke in a half-whisper.

“It is about the night of June seventh,” he said mysteriously.

The words focused my attention sharply.

“June seventh!” I exclaimed.

“Sh⁠—sh⁠—” he made a quick gesture for silence, and peered again all about in the semi-twilight made by the still dour, cloudy sky and mist and dripping, close-growing shrubbery. “Yes. The night of June seventh. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what my duty is. I don’t want to get nobody into trouble. But I can’t go on no longer without telling somebody. I thought you, Miss Keate, would know what to do.”

“What is it?” I asked quickly.

He did not reply at once. Instead he looked uneasily all about us, examining the surroundings with an intensity that impressed upon me the need for caution as to the matter he was about to relate. Unconsciously I drew nearer him.

“Go on,” I said.

He surveyed me doubtfully.

“I wish I knew whether I was doing right or not,” he mused with a worried air. “You see⁠—I don’t want to get into trouble myself, either.”

Poor Higgins!

“I’ll see that you do not,” I promised rashly, little knowing how impossible it would prove to be to keep my word.

He cleared his throat, glanced toward the path again.

“You see, I saw it,” he whispered.

“Saw what?”

“Saw who killed the patient in Room 18!”

For a breathless second I wondered if the man had taken leave of his senses. His gray face, his evident fright, the way his eyes shifted about, first peering in one direction and then another, convinced me of his sincerity. He must be speaking the truth. It was evident, too, and I did not wonder at it, that he was in a mortal terror of his knowledge.

“How was it? What did you see?” I whispered too.

“Well, it was this way,” he began so slowly as to nearly drive me frantic with impatience. “It was this way: I had a bad toothache that night. It wouldn’t let me sleep and the hot night seemed to make it worse. I finally got up and came upstairs to get Dr. Hajek to give me something for it. I knocked and knocked at his door but I couldn’t wake him, so⁠—”

“What time was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I think about one o’clock. Anyway I went back to the basement and still couldn’t get any peace from the tooth. It ached and ached and I got up and tried to rouse Dr. Hajek again. I couldn’t wake him⁠—you see, he wasn’t there at all. So I let myself out of the main door and walked around the corner of the hospital. Sometimes Dr. Letheny would sit up late and I thought that if there was a light in his study, I could get something for my tooth from him. It was the darkest night I have ever seen.”

He paused to shake his head dolefully.

“Anyway, pretty soon I saw a sort of green light up there on the hill, and knew that Dr. Letheny was reading late. Well, I started toward the path and it was so dark I could hardly find my way. When I got to the end of the south wing, I could see that the south door was open, and could see the light over the chart desk. The wing looked almost as dark as it did outside.” He stopped, drew out a blue bandana handkerchief and wiped his forehead, though it was chilly out there on the bridge.

“Then⁠—I heard something, a sort of sound like a footstep⁠—I don’t know exactly what it was. But it seemed to come from there near the door of the wing. It flashed through my mind that someone was prowling about St. Ann’s and, all at once, I remembered about the radium being used, though I didn’t actually think that anyone was stealing it. Anyway, I felt my way through the dark, past the porch of the wing. I went very cautiously and stopped when I heard, just on the other side of that big elderberry bush, two parties talking.” He stopped and used the bandana again, and inwardly I cursed that ambiguous word of his class: “party.”

“Go on,” I said impatiently. “Who were they?”

“I heard a little of what they said,” he continued, impervious to my eagerness. “I’ll tell you about that later. I must have made some sort of sound, for all at once they stopped talking and went away. I followed them but lost them in the darkness, and thinking from their talk that they would be coming back to the hospital, I felt my way back again, too. I was just in time to see a little light through the window of Eighteen. It was the light of a match and by it I saw the face of the party that”⁠—he was whispering⁠—“that killed Jackson. I saw the radium being hid. Yes, miss, and I know where the radium is right now.”

I think I seized him by the arm and shook it, for I remember he drew back.

“Tell me, quick, Higgins. Hurry. Who was it?”

“Not so fast, now, Miss Keate. I’ve got to tell my story in my own way. Miss Keate, there was three in Room 18 that night. Yes, ma’am, three.”

“Three? Who were they, Higgins? Didn’t the same man kill both Jackson and the doctor?”

He shook his head slowly and with the most exasperating stupidity.

“No, Miss Keate. No, that couldn’t hardly be.”

“Could hardly be! What on earth do you mean? Who was about that night? Whom did you see? Who was in Room 18? Speak up, man!”

I suppose I succeeded in confusing him.

“Wait, miss, till I finish my story. I was standing in the shadow, staring with all my eyes at that dark window waiting for the party I had seen to come out⁠—when I just knew that someone was near me. I didn’t hear a footstep nor a breath but all at once somebody was just there. And I was holding my breath to listen when there was a sort of a scramble at the window and I sneaked up closer to the wall. I stumbled over a coat or something right at the window and just as I caught myself I heard a crash from inside Room 18. That scared me, Miss Keate.” The man paused again to scrutinize the dripping, green curtains about us, and I caught my breath.

“That scared me, so I stayed right there where I was, listening. I heard a kind of a scraping sound, then it was all quiet for a minute or two, and I thought I’d better get out of the way. I sneaked over to the corner and stood just around it. It was so black that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, but I’ve got good hearing, ma’am, and I heard only one party slip out that window and close the screen and go away, walking light like a cat through the orchard. And it was just then the wind came up with a bang and things began to whiz around and I thought I’d better get back to my room. I knowed there was some skulduggery going on, ma’am, and I didn’t want to be in on it.” He blew his nose vigorously. I realized that my mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap.

“Who was about, Higgins? Tell me at once.” I spoke very sternly, trying at the same time to keep my teeth from chattering. The recital had recalled all too forcibly to me the events of that black night.

“Well, there was Dr. Letheny⁠—of course. Then there was that Gainsay fellow, the one that is staying up there at Letheny’s. Then there was Corole Letheny and there was Dr. Hajek⁠—”

“Did you recognize all these people, Higgins?” I cried incredulously.

He regarded me with scorn.

“Say, didn’t I tell you I got good ears?”

“But you could hardly recognize Mr. Gainsay, for instance, with your ears.”

“I didn’t,” said Higgins. “I saw his face in the light of a match.”

“Go on,” I urged. “Who else? Who was it you saw in Eighteen? Where is the radium?”

Unfortunately I placed an impatient hand on his arm; he glanced down and saw my wrist watch.

“I’ve got to hurry,” he cried. “It’s nearly six and the fires not⁠—”

“Wait!” I seized his coat sleeve. “Tell me. Who did it?”

He jerked away. “It’s late! I must hurry. I’ll see you tonight.” Eluding my grasp he scurried away and out of sight, around the little bend!

Slowly my hands dropped to my sides. For some time I simply stared in the direction he had taken and let my thoughts whirl.

What had he seen? What had he heard? Who⁠ ⁠… ?

It was curious how slowly I became aware that the green curtain within an arm’s reach was wavering. The slender leaves of willow were trembling, shivering, dancing. The elderberry swayed gently.

There was no wind.

I blinked⁠—frowned⁠—realized its oddity⁠—and in sudden, quick suspicion I took a step forward, thrust the bushes aside with my arms, brushed back the willows, took a few steps along the water’s edge and saw Jim Gainsay vanishing into a little thicket of evergreens.

He did not look back. He seemed to have no idea that he had been seen. He wore no cap. I saw him clearly and unmistakably.

So Jim Gainsay had been behind that willow curtain! Jim Gainsay had heard Higgins’s faltering, reluctant revelations. And after brazenly listening to the whole thing, Jim Gainsay had furtively and stealthily slipped away, without intending that I should even be aware of his presence.

Concerned almost as much with this evidence of Jim Gainsay’s duplicity as with Higgins’s tale, I stood stock-still there in that thicket, with wet branches and leaves pressing against me on all sides. Aware finally of a specially rude one scratching my neck I roused myself, pushed out into the path, and took my way back to St. Ann’s.

The thing to do, I realized, was to let O’Leary know at once of Higgins’s story; if anyone could worm the whole tale from the janitor it would be Lance O’Leary. But I shall have to confess that baffled curiosity overcame me, and I resolved to get hold of Higgins immediately and try to make him tell me, at least, whom he saw there in Room 18.

The supper bell was ringing when I entered the south wing. I am not one to slight meals as a rule, but that was one time when I ignored the summons. However, Higgins was not about and upon inquiry someone said she thought he had gone into town. Reluctantly, then, I went to supper.

At the door of the dining room I met several training girls. Melvina Smith was among them and they were talking excitedly in low voices which they hushed as soon as they saw me, and one and all looked guilty.

“Well, what is it?” I said briskly.

Melvina Smith fastened hollow eyes upon me and said in a sepulchral voice:

“Accident has died.”

“Accident!” Having for the moment forgotten the christening party I was at a loss to understand her cryptic utterance, and wondered if she was quite right.

“Accident,” confirmed Melvina. “The third tragedy is on its way.”

“I must say I don’t in the least know what you are talking about,” I remarked acidly. Melvina is very trying and carries an element of conviction in her tones that makes one feel as if she is well informed.

“Accident. The kitten, you know. The black kitten,” volunteered one of the girls hurriedly. “It died and Melvina says⁠—” her eyes got larger and she lowered her voice⁠—“Melvina says⁠—it is a sign!”

“Oh, the kitten! What nonsense!”

“He was not sick,” said Melvina in a measured and undisturbed way. “He was not sick at all. He was, in fact, the healthiest of the whole batch. But⁠—he died.”

And would you believe it I felt gooseflesh coming out on my arms? Melvina was never intended for as matter-of-fact a profession as that of a nurse; her talents are wasted.

“Nonsense,” I said again, and repeated it. “Nonsense.”

“It is a sign,” remarked Melvina in that quietly positive way. She reached quite casually into her capacious pocket and drew out before our very eyes the kitten. It was, to be sure, dead and quite stiff and stark. All of us shrank back at the sight of the poor little black body with its stiff claws outstretched and its mouth open and grinning, but Melvina regarded it familiarly. “It was a perfectly healthy kitten,” she went on, in the manner of the scientist who weighs facts impartially. “It died. All at once. Just died. No reasons for it. But it died. It is a sign.”

A little gasp went over the group and I found my tongue.

“Melvina Smith,” I said, “take that kitten out into the orchard and bury it. Then change your uniform and scrub your hands with antiseptic soap. How long have you been carrying that thing around? Not that it matters,” I went on hastily as Melvina opened her too-gifted mouth to reply. “Don’t ever let me catch you doing such a thing again. Moreover, if I hear of you saying such foolish and⁠—yes, wicked things again I shall have Miss Dotty give you fifty demerits and that means no Sundays off for the rest of the summer.”

“Miss Dotty already knows about it,” said one of the other girls. “Melvina had it on the table showing it to us at theory class and Miss Dotty didn’t see it and put her hand on it.”

“She was sick,” added another girl solemnly. “She was real sick, all at once. We wanted to practice ‘What to Do for Nausea’ on her but she didn’t give us time.”

“She is in her room now,” concluded the first girl with a passionate devotion to detail. “She is in her room with a hot-water bottle and an ice bag and a bottle of camphor.”

“Well,” I said abruptly, feeling very much as if I were going to imitate Miss Dotty, “take that⁠—er⁠—kitten outdoors at once, Melvina.”

“Yes, Miss Keate,” said Melvina dutifully. “Do you have second watch in the south wing tonight, Miss Keate?”

“Certainly.”

“My‑y‑y!” Melvina sucked in her breath. “Something will be sure to happen. May I help you, Miss Keate?”

“Good gracious, Melvina!” I cried, revolted. “Do you mean to say you would want to be there if anything did happen?”

“Oh⁠—no,” she said reluctantly, eyeing the kitten fondly. “But something will happen. Soon. It is a sign.”

“Melvina!” I must have spoken firmly for Melvina wasted no time in going about her burying and the rest of the girls hastened on down to supper.

It was just after supper that I was called to the telephone.

It was O’Leary, and his voice seemed very far away.

“Is there anyone else in the office?” he asked.

“No.”

“Is this line private? Is there a way for anyone to listen in?”

“No.”

“Then listen, Miss Keate. I can’t get out to the hospital right now and there is something I want to know. Has anything⁠—any article of furniture⁠—any⁠—er⁠—bed linen⁠—blankets⁠—pillows⁠—anything of the sort, been taken out of the room we are interested in?”

“Only the soiled linens,” I replied.

There was a long silence, so long that I repeated my answer.

“Yes, I heard you,” he said hastily. “Are you positive about that? Think hard, Miss Keate.”

“Not another thing⁠—oh, yes, last night I exchanged the loud speaker in that room for another.”

“You did!” His voice was eager. “When? Before or after I was in the room?”

“Before!”

“Sure?”

“Yes. The patient complained that it wasn’t working very well.”

“What did you do⁠—where is it now?”

“In Sonny’s⁠—that is, in the room where I put it, I suppose.”

“Lord, I’m a dumbbell,” said O’Leary heartily. “Miss Keate, listen carefully, please. Take that loud speaker, just as it is, to some safe place and don’t let anyone have it until I come. Understand?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “But I⁠—do you think⁠—could it possibly be⁠—”

“That’s all, Miss Keate,” he interrupted. “Thank you very much.” And before I could tell him of Higgins he had hung up the receiver and I was left shouting “Mr. O’Leary,” into the mouthpiece.

Feeling somewhat put out I telephoned immediately to the number he had given me. A manservant answered and told me rather superciliously that Mr. O’Leary was out. On my saying the message was urgent he brightened up, however, and took my number and name with alacrity, promising to have Mr. O’Leary telephone me as soon as he came home. It seemed evident to me that O’Leary believed the radium to be in the loud speaker, and though at first I was disinclined to agree with him, for it seemed to me that that was altogether too prominent a hiding place, by the time I had reached the south wing, I had had time to recall the “purloined letter,” lying there in plain sight, and was beginning to feel considerably excited and eager to get my hands on the loud speaker. Those loud speakers that we have at St. Ann’s are, as Dr. Letheny had complained, specially made at the advice of a board member who deals in radios; they are built a good deal like a small round hat box on a standard. You’ve seen them. The parallel sides, or what would be the top and bottom of the hat box, are made of some sort of fancifully decorated parchment paper. They are quite attractive and have a clear, soft tone, very nice for a hospital. The more I thought of it the more clearly I realized that here would be a place to hide the radium. There would be plenty of room, the speaker was inconspicuously prominent, if I may indulge in the paradox, and while appearing to be so permanently constructed, nevertheless one of the sides could doubtless be removed and replaced with little evidence of tampering.

It could not have been more than a minute or two later that I entered Sonny’s room and got the loud speaker. I suddenly remembered that it was out of order and had not been fixed, but fortunately Sonny had not asked to have the radio turned on since I had transferred it from Room 18. Or at least if he had, I hadn’t heard of it. As I left the room the corridors were deserted. I met Maida just outside my own room and she saw what I carried but said nothing. I went on into my room and closed the door.

I had fully intended to remove one of the sides of the loud speaker at once, but in the very act of doing so I checked myself. So far as I knew I might thus destroy some important clue. Lance O’Leary had said nothing about examining it; he had said only to place it in safekeeping. It was with some disappointment that, after staring at the thing for some time and shaking it tentatively at my ear, I placed it face downward on the lower shelf of the chifferette and locked the door.

Now to find Higgins!

Higgins was not easy to find, however. I hunted all through the basement, the ambulance rooms, the kitchens, even went out in the twilight to the garage, but Higgins was not to be found. It was dark by that time so I took my way back to the hospital. Not willing to give up I made another rapid search through the basement, but the only living beings I saw were Morgue and the cook who was just going to bed with a stack of forbidden newspapers under his arm.

The cook, however, had seen Higgins.

“Not twenty minutes ago,” he said positively.

“Where?”

“Let me see now⁠—seems to me he was walking down toward the apple orchard. That tall fellow, the one that is visiting up at Letheny’s, was with him.”

“Mr. Gainsay was with him!”

“Sure.” The cook was immediately interested. “Sure. Walking down toward the apple orchard, they was. Do you want to see Higgins, Miss Keate?”

“Oh, it was of no importance,” I said, and somewhat disconsolately departed.