“Quite impossible,” said the medical woman with decision. “The doctor would never allow it. She is extremely restless and feverish, and has just been given a sleeping draught, so that it would be most dangerous to rouse her. But what do you want with her?”
“She is required to give evidence in a case.”
Her conversation with Mrs. Dumaresq flashed through the mind of the medical woman. Could it be that her theory was right after all? Without considering what she was saying, she asked with an air of confidence and knowledge:
“Is it the baby farming case?”
“Yes,” said the stranger.
“My good gracious heavens!” said the medical woman, sitting down abruptly and heavily on the hall chair. “Who would have thought it? What has she to do with the case?” she asked insinuatingly, but the stranger from Scotland Yard had already repented saying “yes,” and replied:
“I really can tell you nothing about it, madam, my business is entirely personal to Miss Semaphore.”
“Well, she cannot see you, you know,” repeated the medical woman. “I am nursing her, and will not take the responsibility. Can you not call again?”
The stranger hesitated.
“I suppose I shall have to. When do you think she will be able to receive me?”