?"

"I just put the clapper back in place with some thread," Edith told
him.

"The clapper?" He struck his forehead with his palm. "Don't tell
me--the crystal necklace we bought twenty years ago!"

"Of course." Her tone was composed. "As soon as young Sam Kee told us
about his father's separating the clapper and the bell, I remembered
the central crystal pendant on my necklace. It _is_ shaped like a bell
clapper--we mentioned it once.

"I guessed right away we had the missing clapper. But I didn't say so.
I wanted to score on you, Mark--" she smiled affectionately at
him--"and because, you know, I had a queer feeling Sam Kee, junior,
wouldn't let us have the bell if he guessed we had the clapper."

"I don't think he would." Mark Williams picked up his pipe and rubbed
the bowl with his thumb. "Yet he didn't really believe that story he
told us any more than we do."

"No, but his father did. And if old Sam Kee had told it to
us--remember how wrinkled and wise he seemed?--I do believe we'd have
believed the story."

"You're probably right." Dr. Williams rang the bell and waited. The
thin, sweet sound seemed to hang in the air a long moment, then was
gone.

"Nope," he said. "Nothing happened. Although, of course, that may be
because there was no deceased around to respond."

"I'm not sure I feel like joking about the story." A small frown
gathered on Edith's forehead. "I had planned to use the bell as a
dinner bell and to tell the story to our guests. But now--I'm not
sure."

Frowning, she stared at the bell until the ringing of the telephone in
the hall brought her out of her abstraction.

"Sit still, I'll answer." She hurried out. Dr. Williams, turning the
rose crystal bell over in his hand, could hear the sudden tension in
her voice as she answered. He was on his feet when she reentered.

"An emergency operation at the hospital," she sighed. "Nice young
man--automobile accident. Fracture of the skull, Dr. Amos says. He
wouldn't have disturbed you but you're the only brain man in town,
with Dr. Hendryx away on vacation."

"I know." He was already in the hall, reaching for his hat. "Man's
work is from sun to sun, but a doctor's work is never done," he
misquoted.

"I'll drive you." Edith followed him out. "You sit back and relax for
another ten minutes...."

* * * * *

Two hours later, as they drove homeward, the traffic was light, which
was fortunate. More than once Mar