In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a
young Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the
room, but Miss Dana was not present.
"Signorita," he said, "I am informed that you have come to restore
the ring which you took from me." Then he noticed by her side was the
same basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it
was empty.
She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute
appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door,
beckoning to him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the
situation, he did so. They passed through the hallway and into his
private office.
She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a
small parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of
cotton wool. From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so
highly.
He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down
the cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the
private drawer and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open.
Her next move was to place the basket in front of the bookcase.
Stepping upon it, which enabled her to reach the apple, she removed
the cover, and dropped the ring into its receptacle, replaced the
cover, stepped down and took up her basket, then closed the bookcase
doors.
"And that's how you did it," ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at
her coolness and audacity.
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