“The story, as far as Holt has told it, is perfectly true,” Thoyne said slowly. “But now there is one other person who knows the whole truth, and I want you to ask her.”
“Her! Who?” Lady Clevedon demanded.
“Nora—Lepley, but—”
“She was a V.A.D. in the hospital where Miss Grainger was a nurse,” I interposed. “Yes, she may know—if we could send for her—”
“She is in the house now,” the younger Lady Clevedon chimed in, speaking for the first time. “I will ring for her.”
Nora came, and I handed her a chair. For a moment she hesitated, then sat down with a glance round the semicircle of perhaps not very friendly faces. I sat back watching the girl closely.
“Now then, Mr. Detective, ask her what you want to know,” old Lady Clevedon rasped. “Oh, yes, it’s your job. You’ve got to fill in your interval, you know.”
I glanced at Thoyne, who nodded affirmatively, and then I turned to Nora Lepley.
“You served as a V.A.D. in a hospital in Bristol,” I said. “Mary Grainger was there as a nurse. Then Mr. Thoyne came in as a patient. You remember all that?”