Curtis ran his fingers gently over the girl’s forehead and across her closed eyelids, then listened to her rapid breathing.
“A case of excitement and fright combined,” he said, as smelling salts were thrust into his hand by Fernando, who had stuck his head inside the door at the sound of the commotion and, with the quickness which characterized all his movements, secured Anne’s bottle of salts which she had left on the hall mantelpiece some days before and forgotten. Curtis moved the salts back and forth before Gretchen, and in a few minutes her blue eyes opened, only to close the next instant as he bent over her.
“It is all right, Gretchen.” His calm voice held a soothing quality which brought confidence to overwrought nerves. “You have nothing to fear.”
“But the gentlemens—he say—” her voice was husky with emotion. “I don’t tell on my young Mees.”
Curtis’ heart contracted suddenly. Was Anne again to be dragged into the investigation? Coroner Penfield, at his elbow, allowed no time for thought.
“You mean Miss Anne Meredith?” he demanded.
A nod was the only answer of which she was capable, but it satisfied Penfield. He exchanged a look with Mayo, then continued his examination as his assistant gave the girl a dose of aromatic spirits of ammonia.
“And the man,” he began. “Did you recognize his voice also?”
“No, gentlemens.” Gretchen straightened up and handed the empty glass to Mayo. “I tell everyting I know,” and she held out her hands in appeal. “Everyting.”
“You are excused,” exclaimed Penfield, and Gretchen, with a sidelong glance at Curtis, slid out of the witness chair and from the room as the surgeon went back to his seat by the fireplace.