"I've got the coroner, Mr. Vandervent. He'll be over in five minutes."
"What about Garland?" demanded Vandervent.
"There's a train for New York at midnight. I took the cuffs off him, and he'll be on that train. He'll keep his mouth shut. Leastwise, if he does talk, no one'll believe him. He's a hop-head, that guy. But not so far gone but that he may not come back. The fear of God is in him to-night, sir. Maybe he'll straighten up." He shuffled his feet. "Please, sir, I think Miss Deane ought to be gettin' out of sight. The coroner'll ask questions, and the fewer lies need be told him——"
"Mrs. Carey? May she talk?" asked Vandervent.
Spofford shook his head.
"We'll keep him away from her until to-morrow. By that time, I'll have her coached—Miss Deane won't be in it, sir."
"Fair enough," said Vandervent.
Spofford moved toward the door. But, suddenly, Clancy didn't wish to be alone with Vandervent. She wanted time, as a woman always does. And so, because Vandervent must remain and see the coroner, Clancy drove home to the anxious Mrs. Walbrough alone. Physically alone, but in spirit accompanied by the roseate dreams of youth.