Mrs. Porter turned an agonized face toward them. “No, I’ll speak to Dr. Thorne myself. He has been highly recommended to me and is the nearest physician this side of Alexandria. I never expected,” she added bitterly, picking up the telephone, “to ask any of his family to assist me, but Craig’s need is paramount. Don’t wait, Mrs. Hall.” And the day nurse hastened back to her patient.
Vera was on the point of following her when Mrs. Porter signed to her to wait, and she listened with the keenest attention to the one-sided conversation on the telephone. Mrs. Porter finally hung up the receiver in a rage.
“His servant’s a fool!” she declared, laying an impatient finger on the bell which connected with the servants’ hall. “He doesn’t know where Dr. Thorne is or when he will be back. Ah, Murray,” as that worthy appeared, “go at once to Thornedale and find Dr. Thorne and bring him here,” she wound up, sinking down on the couch, and a burst of tears relieved her overwrought feelings. “Oh, Craig, Craig—my dear, dear boy!”
Murray, seeing Vera spring to Mrs. Porter’s side, vanished, and, being impressed with the urgency of his errand, never stopped to get his overcoat, and in a hatless condition made his way across the fields. He was just entering the carriage drive to Thornedale when he descried the doctor coming along the highway, and he started forward to meet him. He was almost within hailing distance when a man stepped from behind a clump of bushes and called him by name.
The footman stared at the newcomer as if unable to believe his eyes.
“So it’s yourself!” he ejaculated, walking slowly around him. “And who do you wish to see, sir?”
“Miss Vera Deane, of course.” Both the words and the emphasis were not lost on Beverly Thorne, whose rapid approach had gone unnoticed, and he contemplated the newcomer with mixed feelings as he strode past them, Murray never even seeing him.
CHAPTER XII
DETECTIVE MITCHELL ASKS QUESTIONS
CONTRARY to Vera’s idea of a “chatty” motor drive into Washington, Millicent and her two guests made the trip almost in silence. Hugh Wyndham, alone, seemed to find the silence irksome, but his efforts to force conversation met with no encouragement and he finally lapsed into silence. It was not until the limousine had crossed Long Bridge and was bowling along the asphalted streets of Washington that Millicent broke her moody silence.
“Do you wish to go direct to the Tribune office, Dorothy?” she asked, picking up the speaking-tube.