Mason started toward the door. In abrupt contrast to the vociferous recriminations which had taken place in that room, he made an elaborate show of tiptoeing so that he would not disturb the sleeper. “I,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “see nothing gained by trying to disturb the slumbers of a drugged woman.”
Dr. Gifford nodded. Despite himself Sampson suppressed a smile. Sergeant Holcomb, seeming about to choke with indignation, started to say something, but Sampson touched him on the shoulder and said, “That’s all of it, Sergeant.”
Chapter 9
Mason stopped in the telephone booth at the hospital to call Paul Drake. “Listen, Paul,” he said, “things are happening fast up at this end. Give me the low-down on Virginia Trent.”
“They’re keeping her in the custody of a police nurse,” Drake said. “They took her to headquarters last night, and gave her the works until she had hysterics good and plenty. Then they had a doctor give her a big sedative and a police nurse took her home. The nurse is standing guard.”
“Any formal charge?” Mason asked.
“None at present. They’re probably holding her as a material witness if it comes to a showdown, but they’re not too certain about her. The uncle was killed with one bullet fired from a thirty-eight caliber revolver found in the upper right-hand drawer of the desk. You were there when Sergeant Holcomb found the gun.”
“So what?” Mason said. “She came in there just a few minutes before I did. The body had been there for some time.”
“I know, but they’re wondering whether she didn’t go in there to do something about disposing of the body or trying to get something out of the pockets or...”
“All that’s absurd,” Mason said.