down the stairs, still in her robe and slippers. The doctor followed and passed her, going through the door into the outside.
She walked, as though directed by some unseen force, into Mr. DeBrugh's study. She switched on a lamp beside the sofa on which he had always sat; and she noticed that it was moved slightly out of place.
There was something else about the room, some memory of old days. First she saw some sort of legal document on the table and wondered at its being there. The title said: Last Will and Testament of Hector A. DeBrugh. It was brief. She read it through and found that Mr. DeBrugh had spoken truthfully in his promise to her.
Beside the will on the table was another object, and she knew then what the "something else" in the room was.
The meerschaum! It lay there beside the document, and a thin spiral of grayish smoke rose upward from it toward the ceiling.
No longer did Letty wonder about anything.
| To a Skull |
| on My Bookshelf |
By ELIZABETH VIRGINIA RAPLEE
O bony relic of forgotten days,
Which, from my bookshelf, dominates the room,
Your empty sockets, with sardonic gaze,
Follow me weirdly in the deepening gloom!
I often think, if sudden speech returned,
You might reveal that secret, grisly jest
You're grinning at—or tell me what you've learned
Of that dark realm to which we're all addressed.
By what rude hands were you exhumed, and why
Wrenched from your body in its earthy bed?
Who knows but such indignity will I
Receive at other hands, when I am dead,
And, strangely resurrected, may adorn
The wall or desk of one as yet unborn!
