“Such as——”
I glanced at him impatiently.
“Such as?” he repeated.
“Oh—how warm it was, and how everybody longs for something that money will buy, and how St. Ann’s is equipped with radios and expensive ambulances and a whole gram of radium and how much such things cost and all that—and then we played a few hands of bridge and then Dr. Letheny played the piano and then Maida—Miss Day—and I came back through the orchard to St. Ann’s and changed into our uniforms and went on duty.”
“You talked of money and how everybody longs for something that money will buy,” mused O’Leary, adding with uncanny intuition, “I suppose several of you admitted a special desire for money?”
“Every single one of us,” I confessed. “That is, except Dr. Hajek. He just listened and seemed amused.”
He smiled. “Don’t be alarmed over such an admission. That doesn’t mean anything, that you all wanted money. Everyone wants money. But suppose you tell me, word for word, as much as you can remember of the conversation. Don’t be afraid of implicating anyone, Miss Keate. I make the request only because I like to get as clear an idea of the general surroundings as possible.” He smiled again. He had an extraordinarily winning smile; it brightened his whole face, for all that it was so brief, and I found myself warming under its influence.
Not seeing how I could possibly harm anyone I repeated as much of our conversation as I could remember, and since I have usually a good memory I think I omitted very little of it.
When I had finished he sat for some time turning and twisting his pencil. I might say that I never but once saw him use that pencil sensibly as a pencil is meant to be used. I even grew to cherish a notion that the pencil aided his mental processes and that if it were taken away from him his ability to think might go along with it. Like Samson’s hair, you know. Then I aroused myself from such childish speculation.
“If that is all——” I hinted. “This is a busy day for us, you know.”