“There was a great improvement. She seemed much less nervous yesterday, but to-day she has had another of her attacks.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Do you know what brought this one on?”
“Yes. It was reading in the paper of the Frenchman’s assault on you!”
“But I don’t understand why that should have affected her.”
“You will forgive my saying so, Doctor—neither do I, although I am extremely glad that you escaped from that madman unhurt.”
She looked at me for a moment in silence, then said: “When Fred advised me to consult you about my daughter’s health, I knew immediately that I had heard your name before, but could not remember in what connection I had heard it mentioned. In fact, it was not until I read in the Bugle that the man who was supposed to have committed the Rosemere murder had, last night, attempted to kill you that I realized that you were the young doctor whom my daughter had told me about. You were present when she was made to give an account of herself to the coroner, were you not?”
“Yes, but I trust that my slight association with that affair will make no difference.”
She again interrupted me: “It makes the greatest difference, I assure you. As you are aware of the exact nature of the shock she has sustained, I am spared the painful necessity of informing a stranger of her escapade. We are naturally anxious that the fact of her having been in the building at the time of the murder should be known to as few people as possible. I am, therefore, very grateful to you for not mentioning the matter, even to Fred. Although I have been obliged to confide in him myself, I think that your not having done so indicates rare discretion on your part.”
I bowed.
“You may rely on me,” I said. “I have the greatest respect and admiration for Miss Derwent, and would be most unwilling to say anything which might lay her open to misconstruction.”