“Very well—sit down,” he said, resuming his chair. “Now what is it you wish?”
She seated herself and leaned across the desk toward him.
“I wish to talk to you about the fever,” she said with her former composure, and looking him very steadily in the eyes. “I suppose you know what caused it?”
“I am no doctor. I do not.”
“Then let me tell you. My father has just told me that there must have been a case of typhoid during the summer somewhere back in the drainage area of the water-system. That recent big storm carried the summer’s accumulation of germ-laden filth down into the streams. And since the city was unguarded by a filter, those germs were swept into the water-mains, we drank them, and the epidemic——”
“That filter was useless—a complete failure!” Blake broke in rather huskily.
“You know, Mr. Blake, and I know,” she returned, “that that filter has been, and still is, in excellent condition. And you know, and I know, that if it had been in operation, purifying the water, there might possibly have been a few cases of typhoid, but there would never have been this epidemic. That’s the God’s truth, and you know it!”
He swallowed, but did not answer her.
“I suppose,” she pursued in her steady tone, “you realize who is responsible for all these scores of sick?”