Winnie had insisted on administering hot soup and a full dose of aspirin, and sat beside the exhausted girl, holding her hand, stroking her aching forehead, cherishing her with all womanly endearments, till, between them, she and Mother Nature, and the beneficent drug brought blessed sleep and oblivion to the tortured brain and heart.
Then Winnie stole away, and presently, as he so often did, Austin Starr turned up, to whom she poured out her indignation at Mrs. Armitage’s callous conduct.
“I always guessed she could be a holy terror if she chose. Though she has always been mighty civil to me,” said Austin.
“Of course. She always is to men, and most of them think she’s an angel. Why, she made a dead set at Roger when they first knew him, and was furious when she found he wasn’t taking any, and that it was Grace he was in love with. She’s been sniffy with them both ever since—mean little cat! What do you suppose she said to Grace at the very last moment before she went to the church the other day?”
“Something sweet and maternal,” suggested Austin sarcastically.
“I don’t think! She came into Grace’s room, preening herself like a canary—the first time she’d been near her to my knowledge, and I got there pretty early to help Grace dress. Mrs. Armitage just looked her up and down and said, ‘Really, Grace, you look like a corpse; white never did suit you. Hadn’t you better make up a bit?’ I could have shaken her! And when there was that dreadful delay at the church she never even came through to the vestry with us, but was only fussing and fuming because the Rawsons hadn’t come. While now, if you please, she’s made up her nasty little mind that Roger is guilty and is going to be hanged, and had the fiendish cruelty to blurt it out to Grace the moment she arrived. It was enough to kill her!”
“Sure,” conceded Austin gravely. “I’m not making any excuse for Mrs. Armitage—her conduct was just abominable—but we’ve got to face facts, Miss Winnie; and the great fact is that I’m afraid a good few people are of the same opinion.”
Winnie sprang up, a passionate figure, and pointed an accusing forefinger at him.
“Austin Starr, you don’t dare to sit there and tell me that you believe your friend Roger Carling is a murderer!”