"I'd rather you didn't talk about it," continued he, hurriedly. "Just put it in a safe place. Will you, please?"
Puzzled, but unquestioning, Marcia thrust her hand beneath his sodden clothing and drew forth a small, flat box, wrapped in a bedraggled handkerchief.
"If you'll look out for it, I'll be tremendously obliged."
"Of course I will," smiled Marcia. "Is it valuable?"
The question, prompted by a desire to perform faithfully the service entrusted to her, rather than by curiosity, produced a disconcerting result.
"I shouldn't like to--to lose it," he stammered.
"I'll be careful. You yourself shall see where it is put. Look! Here is my pet hiding-place. This brick in the hearth is loose and under it is plenty of space for this small box. I'll tuck it in there. Just hold it a second until I pry the brick up. There we are! Now give it to me."
She reached hurriedly for the package, but as their hands met, the moist, clinging handkerchief became entangled in their fingers and slipping from its coverings a leather jewel-case dropped to the floor.
Out of it rolled a flashing necklace and a confusion of smaller gems.
Nevertheless, she neither looked up nor delayed.
"Sorry to be so clumsy," she muttered, as she swiftly scooped up the jewels.
It was well she had made haste, for no sooner was the clasp on the box snapped and the treasure concealed beneath the floor than Sylvia returned, and a moment later came both Doctor Jared Stetson and Elisha Winslow.
"Mornin', Marcia," nodded the doctor. "'Lish happened to be in the office when your niece called up, an' hearin' you had a man patient, he thought mebbe he might be of use. What 'pears to be the trouble, sir?"
"H--m--m! Keepin' your diagnosis private, I see. That's wise. A wrist can be broken, fractured, dislocated, or just plain sprained an' still pain like the deuce." With skilled hand, he pushed back the dripping sleeve.
"You're a mite water-logged, I notice," observed he. "Been overboard?"
"Something of the sort," returned the man with the flicker of a smile.
"Mr.--" for the fraction of a second, Marcia hesitated; then continued in an even tone, "--Mr. Carlton grounded his boat and had to swim ashore."
"You don't say! Well, I ain't surprised. 'Tain't no day to be afloat. You couldn't cut this fog with a carvin'-knife. But for knowin' the channel well's I do, I might 'a' been aground myself. How come you to take your boat out in such weather?" the doctor demanded.