“What do you want? Something, I know. Give it a name before there’s a change there.”
She nodded towards the bed, and Sweetwater took advantage of the moment to scrutinise more closely the nurse herself. She was a robust, fine-looking woman, producing an impression of capability united to kindness. Strength of mind and rigid attendance to duty dominated the kindness, however. If crossed in what she considered best for her patient, possibly for herself, she could be severe, if not biting, in her speech and manner. So much Sweetwater read in the cold, clear eye and firm, self-satisfied mouth of the woman awaiting his response to the curt demand she had made.
“I want another good look at your patient, and I want your confidence since you and I may have to see much of each other before this matter is ended. You asked me to speak plainly and I have done so.”
“You are from headquarters?”
“Coroner Perry sent me.” Throwing back his coat, he showed his badge. “The coroner has returned to his office. He was quite upset by the outcry which came from this room at an unhappy moment during the funeral.”
“I know. It was my fault; I opened the door just for an instant, and in that instant my patient broke through her torpor and spoke.”
She had drawn him in, by this time, and, after another glance at her patient, softly closed the door behind him.
“I have nothing to report,” said she, “but the one sentence everybody heard.”
Sweetwater took in the little memorandum book and pencil which hung at her side, and understood her position and extraordinary amenability to his wishes. Unconsciously, a low exclamation escaped him. He was young and had not yet sunk the man entirely in the detective.
“A cruel necessity to watch so interesting a patient, for anything but her own good,” he remarked. Yet, because he was a detective as well as a man, his eye went wandering all over the room as he spoke until it fell upon a peculiar-looking cabinet or closet, let into the wall directly opposite the bed. “What’s that?” he asked.