Explore "The Disappearing Eye" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There it glared at me -- the glass eye for which I sought. As Striver had said, it was a mere shell, on the outward curve of which was depicted the pupil and the iris of a gray eye, the white portion of the fabric being delicately streaked with thin red veins. Uttering an ejaculation I tipped it over with my finger, and just had time to see that there was a piece of silver the size of a threepenny bit -- and perhaps indeed a threepenny bit -- fastened inside the concave, when I heard Mr. Monk's voice calling me on the terrace. It flashed across me in an instant that he must not see the eye, which apparently Gertrude had carelessly left lying on the table. I should have picked it up to slip into my pocket, but the sight was so very unexpected that I had not my presence of mind and stepped back again on to the terrace, leaving the sinister object on the table. At the same moment Mr. Monk coming round the corner of the terrace, slipped his arm within my own.
"I heard your voice," he said gently and it guided me towards the corner, "come and see the green-house. There are some orchids there I should like you to examine. I am fond of these weird plants. Such a well-bred taste, too," added Mr. Monk, languidly. "The love of a man for orchids is like the love of a woman for lace."