Slowly she reviewed the happenings of the day—her meeting with Beverly Thorne; his possession of the black-edged card. Was it mere chance, Fate or Fury which had entwined their paths? Could she place dependence upon Thorne? Her heart beat more swiftly and a vivid blush dyed her cheeks as recollection rose of the message his eyes conveyed as they stood together at Diamond Rock barely eight hours before. Pshaw! she was not impressionable, like Dorothy and Millicent—and experience had taught her something of man’s duplicity.
Vera blinked violently, and leaned over to smooth out an infinitesimal wrinkle from the white sheet. Craig Porter had not awakened, and she forced thoughts of Beverly Thorne out of her mind and instead endeavored to recall her scene with Mrs. Porter in the library. As she remembered the expression in the older woman’s eyes when she had asked, “Who in this household would have a motive for killing Bruce Brainard?” Vera turned cold. Why had she not obliged Mrs. Porter to give a direct answer to her own question—at least she would have had her suspicions either confirmed or denied; any alternative would have been preferable to the intolerable suspense she was enduring.
She passed a hand before her eyes, and her thoughts took a new trend. What had brought Alan Noyes back to the Porters’ when he— The opening of the hall door abruptly terminated her troubled reflections, and she rose as Mrs. Porter entered the room.
Without speaking Mrs. Porter tiptoed over to the bed and gazed long and earnestly at her son.
“Is he really asleep?” she whispered.
“Yes, Mrs. Porter. Won’t you take my chair?” placing it for her.
Mrs. Porter seated herself, drawing Vera down to sit on the arm in order that she might speak confidentially and not raise her voice.
“I can do nothing with Millicent,” she said wearily. “Arguments, commands, are of no avail; she will not go to bed, will not even slip on her wrapper and lie down on the lounge. She declares that she cannot sleep, that she must have ‘air, air.’” Mrs. Porter pushed her hair off her forehead. “She even threatens to go for a walk.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes. I thought of sending for your sister to quiet her, but concluded to come for you. Your nursing experience can decide if she needs a sedative.”