“You would not talk like that if you had ever been happy,” said Pauline. “If I have not been happy, it is because justice has been denied me. If this old woman and her son have never been happy it is because they have denied me justice. But justice may now be done, and you yourself may be the first instrument of it.” “Tell me how,” said Pauline. “You will be the blind instrument,” he said. “Tell me how,” Pauline repeated. “I have been watching a long time at that window,” said the man, always with the utmost respect--“and what I saw convinces me that you know more of this affair than you care to seem to know.” “What do you mean?” demanded the girl defiantly. “Well,” said Mr. Jetsam, “Mrs. Ilam cannot talk, cannot give instructions of any kind. Yet I saw you take a particular box from off the chest of drawers, and hide it under the invalid’s pillow. In order to hide it, you actually disturbed the invalid. You lifted her head to enable you to conceal the box in the bed beneath it. That is strange, Miss Dartmouth. But I have no desire to pry into your secrets. You are a friend of the family, nay more, a relative, and you had the right to do all that you have done. But let me tell you at once that I have come in search of precisely that box. I hoped to get it while everybody was asleep; but I was prepared for emergencies. If your cousin Ilam had been here in your place I should have obtained possession of it without asking his leave. But you--well, I humbly ask you to give it to me.” Pauline gazed at the poor organism on the bed. “Is he to have the box?” she asked. “Is he to have the box, Mrs. Ilam?” The staring, sad eyes did not move. There was not the slightest flutter of the lids. “Why do you put questions to her?” asked Mr. Jetsam moodily. “She means that you are not to have the box,” said Pauline, and then she addressed Mrs. Ilam anew. “You mean that he is to go away without the box?” The eyelids wavered and then blinked rapidly. “That means ‘Yes.’ You must now go--at once. I have listened to you too long,” said Pauline. “It is impossible that you should refuse me,” argued the man. “Impossible! I don’t suppose that motion of the eyelids means anything, but even if it did, naturally she does not want me to have the box. Still, I must have it. Miss Dartmouth, everything depends on my obtaining that box. Its contents are essential to the bringing about of justice. I entreat you most urgently and most solemnly to give it to me. You cannot doubt my sincerity.” “I will admit frankly,” answered Pauline, “that I do not doubt your sincerity. But, all the same, you cannot have that box--at least from my hands. It belongs to Mrs. Ilam; she evidently treasures it highly. I put it under her pillow to satisfy her. Mrs. Ilam is helpless, and I am in charge of her. You must go, I repeat--and at once. We have talked too much.” “Suppose I take it by force?” suggested the man.