The Patient in Room 18 · Chapter 11 (2/2)

“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.