"We had better." And they did.
There was a trunk key, seventy-five dollars, and a letter signed "Syl," and frivolously dilating upon a man named John and loads of love to Miss Lamb!
"Well!" said the nurse, "and as one might expect, no heading, date, or any sensible clue—and the envelope missing. We must label this patient, I suppose, as Miss Lamb. The articles of clothing are unmarked. Queer all around!"
"We must get her into the hospital at once," Cameron replied. The doctor in him was getting into action.
"Can we manage her in my car?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Then get busy. Call her Miss Lamb when you have to answer questions. We can find out about her later. Where's that dog?"
Cuff was making himself invisible. He was under the couch.
"Have him fed and taken care of, Miss Brown—tell the maid."
Joan leaned against Cameron on the way to the hospital while Miss Brown kept a finger on her pulse. The girl's body acted mechanically, but the brain was clogged.