“That is just it, Miss Holcomb.  We saw nothing.  One minute we were looking at Chick, and the next at nothing.  Hobart understood it better than I. At least he forbade my crossing the room.  There is a danger point, a spot that may not be crossed.  He threw me back.  It was then that the Rhamda came upon the scene.”  She frowned slightly.

“Tell me about the Nervina.  When Chick spoke of her, I could always feel jealous.  Is she beautiful?”

“Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though I would hardly class her as one to be jealous of.  But she wants the ring.  I’ve promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it.  But I would like its history.”

“I think I can give you some information there,” she answered.  “The ring, or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty years ago by a Mr. Kennedy.  He had been a pupil of father’s when father taught at a local school.  He came here often to talk over old times.  Father had the jewel set in a ring; but he never wore it.”

“Why?”

“I do not know.”

“How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?”

“That, I think, was an accident.  He was in college, you know, at the time of father’s disappearance.  In fact, he was in the Ethics class.  He came here often, and during one of his visits I showed him the ring.  That was several years ago.”

“I see.”

“Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the jewel.  We were to be married, you understand; but I had always put it off because of father.  Somehow I felt that he would return.  It was in late summer, about September; it was in the evening; it was getting dark.  I gave Chick the ring, and stepped into the garden to cut some flowers.  I remember that Chick struck a match in the parlour.  When I came back he seemed to be excited.”

“Did he ask you for the ring?”

“Yes.  He wanted to wear it.  And he suddenly began to talk of father.  It was that night that he took it upon himself to find him.”

“I see.  Not before that night?  Did he take the ring then?”

“Yes.  We went to the opera.  I remember it well, because that night was the first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy.”

“Ah!”

“Yes.  You know how jolly he always was.  When we returned that night he would scarcely say a word.  I thought he was sick; but he said he was not; said he just felt that way.”

“I understand.  And he kept getting glummer?  Did you suspect the jewel?  Did he ever tell you anything?”

She shook her head.

“No.  He told me nothing, except that he would find father.  Of course, I became excited and wanted to know.  But he insisted that I couldn’t help; that he had a clue, and that it might take time.  From that night I saw very little of him.  He leased the house on Chatterton Place.  He seemed to lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly.  He talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of a beautiful girl called Nervina.  You say it is the ring?  Tell me, Mr. Wendel, what is it?  Has it really anything to do with father?”