“Miss Porter has been given a sedative,” she said, closing the bedroom door softly. “The slightest noise—your whistling—”
“Oh, I beg pardon,” in deep contrition. “I was not aware—is she seriously ill?”
“A trifle feverish.” Mrs. Hall glanced at him doubtfully, looked away, then bowed and laid her hand on the knob of the bedroom door, but Wyndham, quick to catch her expression, checked her by an imperative gesture.
“You wish to ask me something?”
All hesitancy vanished as Mrs. Hall met his steadfast regard and came unconsciously under the influence of his friendly smile. “Your cousin,” she began, “your cousin in her delirium begged me to find out if she had hidden them safely.”
Wyndham stared at her. “Hidden what?”
“She never said, but repeated over and over that she wished me to go and see if she had hidden them safely.” Mrs. Hall moved nearer, and lowered her voice. “I trust Miss Porter will be normal when she wakens. I had to use physical strength to prevent her from going out to see ‘if she had hidden them safely.’”
Wyndham failed to catch her furtive glance as he stood considering her words. He roused himself with an effort. “I have no idea to what my cousin alludes,” he said, and his glance sharpened. “How is your other patient this morning?”
“Mr. Porter is about the same.” Mrs. Hall grew grave. “Dr. Noyes is with him until Miss Deane awakens from her nap. She has volunteered to do double duty.”
“I see; let me know if I can be of assistance in taking care of Craig,” said Wyndham, and, bowing, he went downstairs.