“Yes, that is only natural. Wouldn’t it be advisable to take her away from here for a short time?” I suggested.
“I only wish she’d go; but she’s got some maggot in her head, and refuses to stir.” He paused a moment and glanced almost timidly at me.
“Doctor,” he burst out, “I wish you’d come and dine with us this evening. It would be a real kindness. Wife and I both have the blues, and you’d cheer us up no end.”
I was rather taken aback by his eagerness. “I’m very sorry, I can’t possibly do so to-night, for I’ve just promised to dine with an old friend, who is only in town for a short time.”
“Well, if you can’t come to-night, won’t you come to-morrow?” he urged.
I hesitated a moment. On the one hand I was anxious to oblige Atkins, whom I liked, and quite curious to see his wife again, and fathom, if possible, the cause of the change in her husband; while, on the other hand, I felt some delicacy about invading a lady’s home when I had reason to believe that my being there would not be agreeable to her, for I remembered that she had refused even to look at me on leaving the coroner’s presence.
“If you are sure Mrs. Atkins would care to see me, I shall be delighted to accept your invitation.”
“Why should she object to see you?” he demanded.
“There is really no reason,” I hastened to explain; “only as you tell me your wife has been much upset by the murder, and is consequently rather nervous at present, I don’t wish to inflict myself on her if there is the least danger that my company may recall that tragic occurrence too vividly to her.”
Atkins gave me a long, penetrating look, but having apparently satisfied himself that I had given my real reason, he said: