“An inquest!” echoed Dorothy. “Did they hold it so soon?”
“They did, and never had the decency to let us in. Every paper was represented, and we had to cool our heels until the coroner came out and announced—”
“Miss Deane”—the office boy poked his head inside the door—“the ‘boss’ wants ye.”
“In a minute.” Dorothy rose and turned breathlessly to Seaton. “What did the coroner announce?”
“He said that evidence, brought out at the inquest, proved conclusively that Bruce Brainard was murdered, and—”
Murdered! Dorothy stared at him aghast. Dimly she realized that he was still speaking, but his words were meaningless. Bruce Brainard murdered—and under the same roof with her sister, Vera—and Hugh Wyndham! Something snapped inside her brain; she felt herself going, and threw out her hands hopelessly—
“Hully gee! Help, boys!” roared Seaton, bending over her. “She’s fainted.”
CHAPTER VI
THE WALL BETWEEN
VERA DEANE scanned the handsomely appointed dinner table and its vacant places with mixed feelings, and Murray, hovering solicitously behind her chair, answered her unspoken thought.
“Mrs. Porter and Miss Millicent are taking dinner in their boudoir,” he explained. “Selby is serving them, and Mrs. Porter gave most particular orders that you should have a good dinner, Miss Deane.”