CHAPTER XIII
THE RED HERRING
THE front door of the Porter mansion opened with such precipitancy that Vera Deane, on the point of going upstairs, paused with one foot on the bottom step. A glimpse of Murray’s usually stolid countenance, as he stood in the doorway, indicated news out of the ordinary, for his eyes were open to twice their accustomed size and his mouth was agape.
“It’s you, miss!” he ejaculated in vast relief at sight of her. “The doctor wants you.”
Vera changed color. Why should Beverly Thorne want her? To be sure Mrs. Porter had sent for him to attend Craig Porter, but why should he inquire for her—unless he desired to talk to her in her professional character? But he was aware that Craig Porter was attended by a day nurse, while she, Vera, did not go on duty until eight o’clock in the evening.
Vera had slight time to conjecture, for Murray was brushed aside and a tall man advanced into the hall to greet her. As he lifted his hat Vera stared at him in mute amazement, and it was not until her hand was clasped warmly that she recovered her voice.
“Dr. Noyes!” she gasped. “You have returned, after all!”
“So it seems.” Alan Noyes’ grim smile was brief. “A word with you, Miss Deane, before I see Mrs. Porter.”
Murray, engaged in lighting one of the gas brackets, paused in his labors as a sound from outside the house reached him.
“Doctor, you and Miss Deane had better step into the drawing-room,” he said, hurrying to the front door after a peek out of the window. “The limousine has just stopped outside, and Miss Millicent will be here in a minute.”
His words, however, instead of hastening Noyes’ footsteps toward the drawing-room caused him to loiter in the hall, then sighing heavily he accompanied Vera into the drawing-room just as Murray opened the front door.