“Not yet.” Mrs. Porter moistened her lips nervously. “I expect him here at any moment.”
“Suppose we go into the library,” suggested Mitchell, seeing that she made no sign to admit him further into the house. “Then, kindly oblige me by sending for Miss Deane.”
Mitchell had not troubled to lower his voice, and his words were distinctly audible to Dorothy Deane, who was sitting on the top step of the staircase. She waited until she heard Mrs. Porter and Mitchell go in the direction of the library, then sped to Craig Porter’s door and, jerking it open, she beckoned to her sister to come into the hall.
“Vera,” she said in little more than a whisper, “Alan Noyes is evidently detained at the court house, and—and—Detective Mitchell is down in the library waiting to see you.”
Vera stood as if turned into marble, then she drew a long, painful breath.
“Very well”—her voice was not quite steady, and she cleared her throat before continuing—“I will see Detective Mitchell at once. Where is Hugh Wyndham?”
Dorothy flinched, and her eyes fell before her sister’s direct gaze. “I don’t know—I can’t find him anywhere about the place. Oh, Vera,” coloring painfully, “must you tell all?”
Vera nodded. “It would have been better had I been frank in the first place,” she said dully. “God knows, I acted for the best. I can’t leave Craig Porter alone, Dorothy. Where is Mrs. Hall?”
“With Millicent, I suppose. I haven’t seen her lately.”
“Then you sit with Craig until I return.” Vera pushed Dorothy gently through the doorway. “Call me if he requires medical assistance.” And pulling the door shut before Dorothy could recover from her surprise, Vera squared her shoulders and walked downstairs.