“Arrested, miss; the perlice has him, at least, the sheriff.” Murray scratched his head. “They both puts him in jail, leastways that’s what Mr. Hugh said just now before they went off in the motor.”
The footman’s comments, however, fell on deaf ears. Alan Noyes arrested? Vera clung to the screen, her knees trembling under her.
“Why did the sheriff arrest him?” she demanded, in barely more than a whisper.
“He thinks the doctor killed Mr. Brainard.” Murray reached forward to catch her as she swayed toward him. “Did I tell you too sudden, miss? Will you have a drink?”
Vera breathed deeply. “No, no,” she protested. “I—Dr. Noyes said that he might be back, but I did not understand.” She stopped to gain control over her shaking voice. “Who will attend Mr. Craig now?”
“I don’t know, miss.” Murray, like Vera, kept his voice lowered, and, standing on the other side of the screen, neither was aware of a movement in the other part of the room. “It don’t seem right, miss, when the doctor returned to attend Mr. Craig, that he should be taken away just when Mr. Craig needs him.”
“Hush!” Vera held up a warning finger; her quick ears had caught the faint sound which accompanies the cautious closing of a door. Gliding from behind the screen she crossed the room and, peeping into the hall, was just in time to see the door of Millicent’s bedroom close. She stared thoughtfully at the mahogany door. It was not the sound made by Millicent’s door which had disturbed her; someone had opened Craig Porter’s door and been in his bedroom while she and the footman stood talking behind the screen. Why had the person not announced his or her presence?
Vera turned back into the sick room and found Murray regarding Craig Porter sorrowfully. He was about to speak when he caught her gesture enjoining silence, and without a word tiptoed from the room.
Several minutes elapsed before Vera moved over to the lunch tray and drank the bouillon almost at a gulp. As she set down the cup her eyes fell on a letter addressed to her lying on the tray. The envelope bore the words “Chesapeake and Potomac Telephone Company of Virginia” in the left-hand corner, and Vera almost snatched it up. Before she had more than torn off the envelope a rap sounded on the door, and still clutching the unread letter she went to answer it and discovered Dorothy standing in the hall.
“I can’t come in.” Dorothy drew back and her low, strained voice seemed a counterpart of the haggard lines in her white face. “Do you know, Vera, that they have arrested Alan Noyes for the murder of Bruce?”