“The autopsy!” gasped Mrs. Ogden, horror-stricken. “You don’t mean they are going to hold an autopsy?”
“So my husband said,” Lois spoke more guardedly. “He asked me to say nothing to Ethel, thinking it might upset her, so please don’t mention it.”
“No, of course not,” Mrs. Ogden looked sharply at her visitor. “I believe Ethel was more deeply in love with Jim Patterson than she realized, and now that it is too late she is grieving her heart out.”
Lois did not reply at once. “I think Ethel is shocked beyond measure, and grieved also,” she interpolated. “But I do not think that she entertained any warmer feeling for Jim than friendship.”
“But her emotion on hearing of his death—her unconsciousness—” persisted Mrs. Ogden. “Did she not speak of Jim to you today?”
Lois checked a smile; she had a feeling that Mrs. Ogden had been approaching that question ever since her entrance, and now it was out.
“She mentioned him, yes; and with deep sorrow and regret for his death—but that was all,” she said calmly.
“Ethel is a queer girl,” mused Mrs. Ogden. “I cannot quite make her out; apparently with all her bonhomie, she is at bottom reserved. She never talks of herself, her ills, or her emotions.”
“She has one of the most loyal, lovable natures I’ve ever known,” exclaimed Lois warmly. “When Ethel gives her friendship, her affection is given whole-heartedly, loyally. I hope sincerely that Jim Patterson was nothing more than a friend, for if not, Ethel will never recover from the shock of his tragic death.”
Mrs. Ogden stirred uneasily. “I fear Ethel must dree her weird,” she muttered. “Was anything said of Julian Barclay this afternoon?”