"To change this gridiron martyrdom," Dallas said finally, "where's
Harbison? Still looking for his watch?"
"Watch!" Everybody said it in a different tone.
"Sure," he responded. "Says his watch was taken last night from the
studio. Better get him down to take a squint at the telephone. Likely he
can fix it."
Flannigan was beside me with the cheese. And at that moment I felt Mr.
Harbison's stolen watch slip out of my girdle, slide greasily across
my lap, and clatter to the floor. Flannigan stooped, but luckily it had
gone under the table. To have had it picked up, to have had to explain
how I got it, to see them try to ignore my picture pasted in it--oh, it
was impossible! I put my foot over it.
"Drop something?" Dallas asked perfunctorily, rising. Flannigan was
still half kneeling.
"A fork," I said, as easily as I could, and the conversation went on.
But Flannigan knew, and I knew he knew. He watched my every movement
like a hawk after that, standing just behind my chair. I dropped my
useless napkin, to have it whirled up before it reached the floor. I
said to Betty that my shoe buckle was loose, and actually got the watch
in my hand, only to let it slip at the critical moment. Then they all
got up and went sadly back to the library, and Flannigan and I faced
each other.
Flannigan was not a handsome man at any time, though up to then he had
at least looked amiable. But now as I stood with my hand on the back of
my chair, his face grew suddenly menacing. The silence was absolute.
I was the guiltiest wretch alive, and opposite me the law towered and
glowered, and held the yellow remnant of a pineapple cheese! And in the
silence that wretched watch lay and ticked and ticked and ticked. Then
Flannigan creaked over and closed the door into the hall, came back,
picked up the watch, and looked at it.
"You're unlucky, I'm thinkin'," he said finally. "You've got the nerve
all right, but you ain't cute enough."
"I don't know what you mean," I quavered. "Give me that watch to return
to Mr. Harbison."
"Not on your life," he retorted easily. "I give it back myself, like
I did the bracelet, and--like I'm going to give back the necklace, if
you'll act like a sensible little girl."
I could only choke.
"It's foolish, any way you look at it," he persisted. "Here you are,
lots of friends, folks that think you're all right. Why, I reckon there
isn't one of them that wouldn't lend you money if you needed it so bad."
"Will you be still?" I said furiously. "Mr. Harbison left that
watch--with me--an hour ago. Get him, and he will tell you so himself!"