“Yes, immediately; so get your wraps. We have to go at once to the Morgue. Where’s Ethel?”
“Here,” and turning they beheld Ethel standing in the doorway. She was but a wraith of the beautiful girl whose joyous spirit had added so materially to the enjoyment of the bishop at the dinner the night before. “Do I understand we are to go to the Morgue, Cousin Walter?”
“Yes.” Ogden’s rough tone softened. He was very fond of Ethel. “We won’t be there very long.”
“But why should I go?” asked Ethel.
“Well, eh, the coroner wishes to know why Patterson was so fool-hardy as to approach the den when the cartridges were exploding, and there was some talk of——”
“My having sent him into the den?” Ethel turned pale, and Lois, observing her emotion, slipped her arm about her waist. “I did,” Ethel paused to control her voice. “And I shall never cease to reproach myself—I virtually killed James Patterson.”
“My dear Miss Ogden,” Professor Norcross turned a shocked face in her direction. “You must not permit yourself to indulge in such morbid fancies.”
“It was more my fault than yours, Ethel,” added Ogden. “I left the cartridges in my desk, and it was only a merciful Providence that others were not killed. Now, don’t waste further time, run and get your wraps.”
Ethel turned to Lois and the appeal in her eyes was unmistakable. “Won’t you come with me?” she whispered.
“I will,” Lois’ hearty response brought comfort to Ethel. “And we can go down in my electric, if you don’t object, Mrs. Ogden?”