Brett, seeing that Winthrop was too exhausted to move without assistance, piloted him to the chair indicated by Thornton, and, getting another chair, placed himself by Winthrop’s side. Douglas, at a sign from the Secretary, sat down at the further end of the table and handed the statesman some paper and ink.
“Now, Mr. Winthrop,” began the Secretary, “if you are more composed, kindly answer my questions. Why have you waited all this time before mentioning that you think Miss Thornton guilty of Senator Carew’s murder?”
“Because I’ve been drugged, so that I couldn’t give evidence. I tried twice to get a message to Brett, but Annette said she couldn’t reach him.” Winthrop spoke with labored effort.
“Annette!” chorused Colonel Thornton, Brett, and Douglas, while the Secretary and Eleanor looked their surprise.
“Yes, Annette,” peevishly, “she used to come in occasionally to give me water when those devilish nurses were neglecting me. She told me that Brett was seldom at the house, and that she never had an opportunity to speak to him alone.”
“The monumental liar——” Brett checked himself. “Never mind that now, Mr. Winthrop, go on with your story.”
“She told me how Miss Thornton used to steal in and drug me, and asked me why she did it.”
“Great Heavens!” Eleanor’s exclamation was followed by a half-strangled laugh which ended in a sob. “What a viper!”
“You were not there last night,” sputtered Winthrop vindictively, “and therefore I didn’t get my usual dose, so I can tell what I know to-day.” A triumphant leer distorted his features.