“I am a wicked girl, Sir Frank. I did have thoughts at one time that he ought to die. But I never went farther than that. I swear to you on my oath that I have no more idea how he was murdered, or who murdered him, than you have—I mean, I have no idea at all.”
The consultant thanked her with a grave bow. “The evidence I have obtained so far points to suicide,” he said quietly. “But I only tell you that in confidence, to relieve your mind. Dr. Weathered carried poison about with him.”
The step-daughter looked even more relieved than Tarleton had expected, but a good deal surprised as well.
“I knew that he took opium sometimes,” she whispered back, “but I never guessed that he meant to take his own life. I was afraid....” She stopped short and shuddered.
The specialist took no notice of the suppressed hint.
“You will see now, I hope, that I haven’t come here to try and get your mother to tell me anything about you. As a matter of fact, my business with her has nothing to do with the murder, or whatever it was, except indirectly. I have come in the interest of some of Dr. Weathered’s patients and I think Mrs. Neobard may be able to help me to obtain certain information on their behalf. I am sure you won’t wish any evil he has done to go on after his death.”
This way of putting it appealed to what was best in Sarah Neobard. She looked puzzled but not disposed to resist. She made another half-hearted attempt to extract from the visitor what it was that he had to ask her mother, but when she found him firm in insisting that he must see Mrs. Neobard herself, she gave way, and went to fetch her.
A quarter of an hour, half an hour, passed. There must have been a severe struggle going on in the next room, although no sounds reached the consultant through the wall. He had laid his hand on the bell to summon a waiter and send a peremptory message when the door at last opened and the widow came in.
Tarleton felt convinced from the first moment that she had guessed his business with her. Her eyes were red and her naturally pale cheeks showed a feverish flush. She was hardly able to walk and her daughter supported her tenderly till she was in a chair. Sarah herself was clearly ignorant of the cause of her mother’s emotion. She glanced wonderingly from her to Sir Frank and back again, and seemed to be holding herself in readiness to defend her parent or to back up Tarleton’s demand, according to her judgment of what was the right course.
The examiner came to the point quickly.