Abruptly turning her back upon the view Vera re-entered the front hall and made her way down its spacious length until she came to the door she sought. A draught of cold air blew upon her as she stepped over the threshold, and with a slight exclamation of surprise she crossed the library to one of the long French windows which stood partly open. It gave upon a side portico and, stepping outside, she looked up and down the pathway which circled the house. No one was in sight, and slightly perplexed she drew back, closed the window, and walked over to the telephone instrument which stood on a small table near by. Her feeling of wonderment grew as she touched the receiver—it was still warm from the pressure of a moist hand.
Vera paused in the act of lifting the receiver from its hook and glanced keenly about the library; apparently she was alone in the room, but which member of the household had preceded her at the telephone?
The old “grandfather” clock in one corner of the library was just chiming a quarter of six when a sleepy “Central” answered her call. It took several minutes to make the operator understand that she wished to speak to the coroner at Alexandria, and there was still further delay before the “Central” announced: “There’s your party.”
Coroner Black stopped Vera’s explanations with an ejaculation, and his excited intonation betrayed the interest her statement aroused.
“I can’t get over for an hour or two,” he called. “You say you have no physician—let me see! Ah, yes! Send for Beverly Thorne; he’s a justice of the peace as well as a physician. Tell him to take charge until I come;” and click went his receiver on the hook.
Vera looked dubiously at the telephone as she hung up the receiver. Pshaw! It was no time for indecision—what if an ancient feud did exist between the Thornes and the Porters, as testified by the “spite wall” erected by a dead and gone Porter to obstruct the river view from “Thornedale”! In the presence of sudden death State laws had to be obeyed, and such things as the conventions, aye, and feuds, must be brushed aside. Only two days before, when motoring with Mrs. Porter, that stately dame had indicated the entrance to “Thornedale” with a solemn inclination of her head and the statement that its present owner, Dr. Beverly Thorne, would never be received at her house. But Coroner Black desired his immediate presence there that morning! In spite of all she had been through, a ghost of a smile touched Vera’s lovely eyes as she laid aside the telephone directory and again called “Central.”
Five seconds, ten seconds passed before the operator, more awake, reported that there was no response to her repeated rings.
“Keep it up,” directed Vera, and waited in ever growing irritation.
“Well?” came a masculine voice over the wires. “What is it?”
“I wish to speak to Dr. Beverly Thorne.”