“Hold on a minute and listen to me first.  I have something that belongs to ye.  I found it after ye’d gone out, and ran after ye.  I thought ye’d miss it and come back.  I wonder ye didn’t.  Ye see I was tidyin’ up yer room, and yer brush dropped down behind the bureau; and when I pushed it out from the wall I found this under the edge of the carpet.  Ye better keep these little things in the drawer.”  Her hand was in the capacious pocket of her apron as she spoke, her plump fingers feeling about its depths.  “Oh, here it is,” she cried.  “I was gettin’ nigh scared ter death fer fear I’d lost it.  Here, give me your cuff and I’ll put it in fer ye.”

“What is it?  A cuff button?” he asked, controlling his disappointment but biding his time.

“Yes, and a good one.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress Kitty, but it cannot be mine,” he returned with a smile.  “I have but one pair, and both buttons are in place, as you can see,” and he held out his cuffs.

“Well, then, who can this one belong to?  Take a look at it.  It’s got arms on one button and two letters mixed up together on the other,” and she dropped it into his hand.

Felix held the sleeve-links to the light, smothered a cry and, with a quick movement of his hands, steadied himself by the table.

“Where did you get this?” he breathed rather than spoke.

“I just told ye.  Down behind the bureau where ye dropped it, along with your hair-brush.”

Felix tightened his fingers, straining the muscles of his arms, striving with all his might to keep his body from shaking.  He had his back to her, his face toward the lamp, and had thus escaped her scrutiny.  “I haven’t lost it,” he faltered, prolonging the examination to gain time and speaking with great deliberation.

“Ye haven’t!  Oh, I am that disappointed!  And ye didn’t drop it?  Well, then, who did drop it?” she cried, looking over his shoulder.  She had been thinking all the evening how pleased he would be when she returned it, and in her chagrin had not noticed the mental storm he was trying to master.

“And ye’re sure ye didn’t drop it?” she reiterated.

“Quite sure,” he answered slowly, his face still in the shadow, the link still in his hand.

“Well, that’s the strangest thing I ever heard!  We don’t have nobody—­we ain’t never had nobody up in that room with things on ’em like that.  The fellow that John and I fired didn’t have no sleeve-buttons.”

“Perhaps somebody else may have dropped it,” he answered, sinking into a chair.  He was devouring her face, trying to read behind her eyes, praying she would go on, yet fearing to prolong the inquiry lest she should discover his agitation.

“No, there ain’t nobody,” she said at last, “and if there was there wouldn’t—­ Stop!  Hold on a minute, I got it!  You’ve bin here six months or more, ain’t ye?”

Felix nodded, his eyes still fastened on her own.  A nod was better than the spoken word until his voice obeyed him the better.