“She came and told me, of all people in the world,” said the doctor ruefully. “Let me see—it must have been two days before you went away. It gave me an awful shock. I could think of nothing else, and yet of course I was bound, professionally, to keep the fact to myself.”
He hit the table with his hand. “I have always disliked that woman!” He turned to his wife. “You can bear me out in that, Jenny, eh?”
“Ay,” she said, “and sometimes I did not think you were quite reasonable about it, Jock. But now I see how right you were. Miss Prince must have had enough poison in that medicine cupboard of hers to have killed every man, woman, and child in the place!”
And then Jean suddenly got up.
“I think I would like to go a walk by myself,” she said. “I didn’t get half walking enough while I was in London.”
After she had shut the door behind her, husband and wife looked at one another.
“I can’t but be glad that she doesn’t yet realize that Garlett’s as good as hanged already,” said the doctor sombrely.
“I think she does realize it,” said Mrs. Maclean pitifully. “You weren’t watching her face while we spoke of Miss Prince. Fancy her having got into touch with Sir Harold Anstey!”
“That was a bit of a surprise to me,” admitted the doctor. “But not all the Ansteys in the world could get off yon man Garlett now.”