“She’s in the far room,” Madge said. “Do you want me?”
“Not right now. If she’s ready to make a statement, I’ll call you.”
As he was speaking the nurse came out of the inner room and nodded to him.
“Don’t let her talk too much. She needs a good sleep.”
“I won’t keep her long,” Conrad said, and aware his heart was beginning to beat unevenly, he walked into the inner room.
Frances lay on a couch with a rug thrown over her. She was very pale, and her big dark eyes looked at Conrad with uneasy anxiety.
He was aware of a sudden tightening of his throat as he looked down at her. Her face in the photograph had fascinated him, and he realized with a sense of shock that he could be in love with her. It was fantastic, of course, as he hadn’t even spoken to her as yet, but the feeling was there, and for a moment he remained still, unable to collect his thoughts or to say anything.
She lay motionless, watching him, and he pulled himself together with an effort.
“I expect Miss Fielding told you I wanted to talk to you,” he said, and his voice was husky. “I’m Paul Conrad, special investigator to the District Attorney’s office. How are you feeling, Miss Coleman?”
“I — I’m all right, thank you,” she said in a small voice. “I want to go home.”