Presently he stretched his hand up to a small drawer in the upper
compartment of the bureau; but, instead of taking a paper or a packet
from it, he took down the drawer itself, placed it on the desk before
him, and began to turn over its contents with a still more darkly
frowning face. Jim, at the corner of the window furthest from him,
watched him so closely that he suspended the process of polishing; but
Routh did not notice the cessation. Presently he came upon the papers
which he had looked for, and was putting them into the breast-pocket
of his coat, when he struck the drawer with his elbow, and knocked it
off the desk. It fell on the floor, and its contents were scattered
over the carpet. Among them was an object which rolled away into the
window, and immediately caught the attention of Jim Swain. The boy
looked at it, through the glass, with eyes in which amazement and fear
contended. Routh picked up the contents of the drawer, all but this
one object, and looked impatiently about in search of it. Then Jim,
desperately anxious to see this thing nearer, took a resolution. He
tapped at the window, and signed to Routh to open it and let him in.
Routh, surprised, did so.
"Here it is, sir," said Jim, not entering the room, but sprawling
over the window-sill, and groping with his long hands along the border
of a rug which sheltered the object of Routh's search from his
observation--"here it is, sir. I see it when it fell, and I knowed
you couldn't see it from where you was."
The boy looked greedily at the object in his hand, and rolled it about
once or twice before he handed it to Routh, who took it from him with
a careless "Thank you." His preoccupied manner was still upon him.
Then Jim shut down the window again from the outside and resumed his
polishing. Routh replaced the drawer. Jim tried very hard to see where
he placed the object he had held for a moment in his hand, but he
could not succeed. Then Routh locked the bureau, and, opening a door
of communication with the dining-room, Jim caught a momentary sight of
Harriet sitting at the table, and went to his breakfast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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