“Oh, yes, sir, it was. But that night when I got to the day nurse’s door it was locked, and when I knocked, no one didn’t answer at first, and then Miss Page called out that she had a headache and had gone to bed already——”
Miss Roberts hesitated and looked down at the prosecutor with honest, troubled eyes.
“Nothing extraordinary about that, was there?”
“Well, yes, sir, there was. You see, when I was coming down the hall I heard what I thought were voices coming out of those rooms, and crying, and I was afraid that the little girl was having more trouble with her ear. That’s why I started to go in without knocking, but after I’d been standing there a minute, I heard that it was Miss Page crying herself, fit to break her heart. I never heard anyone cry so dreadful in all my life. It fairly gave me a turn, but the moment I knocked there wasn’t a sound, and then after a minute she called out that she wouldn’t need me, just as I told you, sir. So I went on my way, of course, though I was still a bit worried. She’d been crying so dreadful, poor thing, that I was afraid she would be right down sick.”
“Yes, quite so. Very much upset, as though she’d been through an agitating experience?”
“Oh, yes, indeed, sir.”
“You were mistaken about the voices weren’t you? It was just Miss Page crying?”
“No, sir—I thought I heard voices, too.” The soft voice was barely audible.
“The little girl’s?”
“No, sir. It sounded—it sounded like Mr. Ives.”