Donald stood up. He was not looking at the place where it was. He was
looking hard at me, in anxiety and a sort of fright. I supposed that was
why he remained unaware of the opening and shutting of the drawers.
It continued its desperate searching.
The bottom drawer stuck fast. I saw it pull and shake it, and stand back
again, baffled.
“It’s locked,” I said.
“What’s locked?”
“That bottom drawer.”
“Nonsense! It’s nothing of the kind.”
“It is, I tell you. Give me the key. Oh, Donald, give it me!”
He shrugged his shoulders; but all the same he felt in his pockets for
the key, which he gave me with a little teasing gesture, as if he
humoured a child.
I unlocked the drawer, pulled it out to its full length, and there,
thrust away at the back, out of sight, I found the Token.