"Not a thing. Please thank them both for me. I'm not a bit diffident about asking favors of people and they can be sure I'll call for help if I need it. No, the doctor isn't alarmed; he just wants her to sleep as much as possible until the worst of the mental strain is over."
A faint clatter of silverware from the dining-room aroused Krech to the passage of time. He looked at his watch and started as if he had been stung.
"Nearly seven! I'm a ruined man! Where on earth is Jason Bolt? He was to call for me long before this."
"That's true—you're stranded, aren't you? I'd forgotten you came with him." Miss Ocky reflected briefly. "I simply can't leave here myself just now, but I'll have Janet take the car and drive you home."
"Janet?" inquired Creighton. "Drives a car, does she? Quite an accomplished lady's-maid!"
"She's a remarkable person," said Miss Ocky. "I'll tell you about her some other time. Now—about yourself! Will you let me save you from the horrors of the local hotel?"
"I was going to ask you if your invitation was still open," answered the detective hesitantly. "But under the circumstances—with your sister ill—haven't you enough trouble on your hands?"
"This house runs itself, thank to Bates," she replied quickly. She met his eye frankly. "You won't inconvenience us in the least, and I'd really be grateful if you would stay. So would my sister. With only old Bates in the house she is inclined to be nervous while—while that man is still at large."
"It is very gracious of you to put it that way," he murmured.
"That's settled," she said briskly, and stood up. "Now I'll go find Janet."