“Yes!” she exclaimed eagerly. “What is it? Oh, do tell me quickly!”
“It’s only an idea. Did Mr. Hart ever suffer from any brain disorder at any time? That’s all I want to know. Has his mind always been quite strong?”
She did not answer for a moment and my heart beat fast. Looking at her closely, I could see that the colour had flushed into her cheeks and there was a troubled light in her eyes.
“He has had one or two severe illnesses,” she admitted slowly; “brain fever once; and I’m afraid he used to drink too much now and then. The doctor told him that he must be very careful not to excite himself.”
“Who was the doctor and where does he live?” I asked quickly.
“Dr. Schofield. He lives on the Lincoln Road, about a mile away. Why have you asked me this?” she added anxiously.
I evaded a direct reply.
“Never mind now,” I said. “If anything comes of it, I will let you know.”
She tried to detain me with further questions, but I hurried away and she did not follow me out of the door.
“Cis,” I said, as I scrambled up to his side, “I want you to go home by the Lincoln Road and call at Dr. Schofield’s. It isn’t far out of the way.”