“Yes; thank you, Doctor.” In spite of her determined effort to keep her voice expressionless, Miriam was conscious that it was not quite steady. “I—oh, Doctor, I don’t know what to say.” Her pent-up emotion was gaining the upper hand. “How to tell you—”
“What?” as she paused.
“That—that—I slept on duty.”
Doctor Roberts eyed her steadily for what seemed an interminable minute. “So that was it,” he remarked dryly. “Well, what then?”
The nurse’s pallor was intensified, but her eyes did not falter in their direct gaze.
“I was asleep when Mr. Abbott died,” she admitted, her hands clenching themselves in the pockets of her uniform.
Doctor Roberts’ stare grew prolonged. “And this was your first case in Washington?” he asked, with marked emphasis.
“Yes.” Miriam Ward moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Hardly a successful début,” commented Roberts. His glance strayed beyond the nurse to a man standing in the shadow of a window curtain. “Give Miss Ward a chair, Alan.”
Somewhat startled by the presence of a third person, Miriam accepted the proffered seat with relief; she was weaker than she had at first realized.