The Bronze Hand | Page 6

looked as if
she would like to. I was the only one to rise. The truth is, I could see no

one touch the box without having something more than my curiosity
awakened. Approaching her respectfully, and with as complete a
dissimulation of my real feelings as possible, I ventured to say:
"You are very ill, miss. Shall I summon the doctor?"
She was clutching the side of the table for support, and her head,
drooping helplessly over the box, was swaying from side to side as she
rocked to and fro in her pain.
"Thank you!" she gasped, without turning, "I will wait. I would rather
wait."
At that moment the doctor's door opened again.
"There he is now," said I.
"I will wait," she insisted. "Let the others take their turn."
Satisfied now that something besides pain caused her interest in the box,
I drew back, asking myself whether she had been in possession of the
ring from the beginning, or whether it had been passed to her by her
restless neighbor. Meanwhile, another patient had disappeared into the
adjoining room.
A few minutes passed. The man with the restless eye began to fidget.
Could it be that she was simply guarding the box, and that he was the
one who wished to open it? As the doubt struck me, I surveyed her
more attentively. She was certainly doing something besides supporting
herself with that sly right hand of hers. Yes, that was a click I heard.
She was fitting a key into the lock. Startled, but determined not to
betray myself, I assumed an air of great patience, and, taking a
memorandum book from my pocket, began to write in it. Meantime, the
doctor had disposed of his second patient and had beckoned to a third.
To my astonishment, my friend with the nervous manner responded,
thus acquitting himself in my eyes from any interest in the box.
The interview he had with the doctor lasted some time; meantime, the

young woman in the window remained more or less motionless. When
the fourth person left the room, she turned and cast a quick glance at
myself and the other person present.
I knew what it meant. She was anxious tobe left alone in order to lift
that mysterious lid. She was no more ill than I was.
There was even a dash of color in her cheeks, and the trembling she
indulged in was caused by great excitement and suspense, and not by
pain.
Compassion at once gave way to anger, and I inwardly resolved not to
spare her if we came into conflict over the box.
My companion was an old and non-observant man, who had come in
after the rest of us. When the doctor again appeared, I motioned to this
old man to follow him, which he very gladly did, leaving me alone with
the pale girl. At once I got up, showing my fatigue and slightly
yawning.
"This is very tedious," I muttered aloud, and stepped idly towards the
door leading into the hall.
The girl at the box could not restrain her impatience. She cast me
another short glance. I affected not to see it; took out my watch,
consulted it, put it back quickly and slipped out into the hall. As I
closed the door behind me, I heard a slight creak. Instantly I was back
again, and with so sudden a movement that I surprised her, with her
face bent over the open box.
"Oh, my poor young lady," I exclaimed, springing towards her with
every appearance of great concern. "You do not look able to stand.
Lean on me if you feel faint, and I will help you to a seat."
She turned upon me in a fury, but, meeting my eye, assumed an air of
composure, which did not impose upon me in the least, or prevent me
from pressing close to her side and taking one look into the box, which
she had evidently not had sufficient self-possession to close.

The sight which met my eye was not unexpected, yet was no less
interesting on that account. A hand--the hand--curiously made of
bronze, and of exquisite proportions, lay on its enamelled cushion, with
rings on all of its fingers save one. That one I was delighted to see was
the middle one, proof positive that the mischief contemplated by Miss
Calhoun had not yet been accomplished.
Restored to complete self-possession by this discovery, I examined the
box and its contents with an air of polite curiosity. I surprised myself
by my self-possession and bonhomie.
"What an odd thing to find in a physician's office!" I exclaimed.
"Beautiful, is it not? An unusual work of art; but there is nothing in it to
alarm you. You shouldn't allow yourself to be