Dorothy started; ill, why should the detective imagine Vera was ill?
“She is resting,” she responded. “Your ignorance of nurses’ hours of duty proves a clean bill of health, Mr. Mitchell. Night nurses must sleep in the daytime, especially when the day nurse is late in reporting for duty.”
“But Mrs. Hall has been back for some time,” persisted Mitchell. “And it is now nearly one o’clock. Are you quite sure that your sister is still asleep? I am under the impression that I saw her in the upper hall talking to Miss Porter fifteen minutes ago.”
Dorothy considered the detective in silence. What had aroused his sudden interest in Vera?
“If you will give me your message,” she said, “I will go upstairs and see if my sister is awake.”
“Thank you,” replied Mitchell. “But I must see your sister—”
“When?”
“Now.” Hearing a step behind him, Mitchell spun around as Murray stopped by the back of his chair.
“Mrs. Porter desires you to step into the library, sir,” he announced. “You also, Miss Dorothy,” and, wondering why her presence was required, Dorothy followed the detective into the library.
A disorderly pile of newspapers lay on the center table in front of Mrs. Porter, whose air of displeasure and heightened color Dorothy rightly attributed to the display type which heralded the news accounts of the mysterious death of Bruce Brainard.