I drifted uneasily about the dismal corridors for some time before I found Maida, ensconced unhappily in a cold window seat with a magazine which she was holding upside down.
She had not been to see Corole yet, she told me, and was dreading the visit that convention demanded. Wouldn’t I go with her? And though I had no relish for Corole’s company I found myself following the blue and scarlet of Maida’s nurse’s cape along that sodden, desolate path, holding my own cape tight around me and wishing I had brought an umbrella.
On the porch we met Dr. Hajek, just leaving.
“Bad weather,” he murmured as we passed him. His dark eyes slanted knowingly toward us; his face was very fresh and ruddy and his square teeth gleamed under that small black moustache.
Huldah opened the door, her cap very properly on her head this time but her face sullen.
We found Corole comfortably seated in what had been Dr. Letheny’s study, a warm fire glowing in the grate and the tea cart drawn up to the davenport and laden with her best silver tea service and some fascinating little French pastries that could only have come from Pierre’s, a very exclusive and high-priced sweet shop. I registered the impression that Corole was not wasting any time enjoying her newly augmented income, and gave my cape to Huldah. Corole and Maida were murmuring polite sentences and, recalling my promise to O’Leary, I followed Huldah to the hall.
“Miss Letheny feeling any better, Huldah?” I asked.
She gave me an expressive glance.
“H’m!” she grunted. “There’s not much mourning going on in this house! She—” she jerked her head toward the study—“dresses all up like a hussy every day and entertains callers. You know as well as I do that ain’t any way for a lady to do!”
“I noticed she was wearing that green silk thing with her bronze slippers the other day,” I remarked tentatively.