Trenholm found his two guests smoking in silence when he joined them a few minutes later.
“Sorry to have been so long,” he said apologetically, taking up a cup of coffee, before seating himself on the divan before the open fire. “There have been a number of petty thefts in the neighborhood, but I believe we’ve jailed the right man to-day, from the evidence just brought to me.” He swallowed his coffee and replaced the cup on the table. “By the way, Roberts, how is Mrs. Nash?”
“Much better this evening,” responded Roberts. “If she continues to show such improvement, she may be able to sit up to-morrow for a time.”
“Ah, then Mrs. Nash can soon dispense with the services of a trained nurse,” broke in Alan, with a swift look upward at the clock on the mantel.
“Perhaps,” answered Roberts. “Much depends, however, on what sort of a night she has.”
“Is Miss Ward still on the case?” questioned Trenholm, knocking the ashes from his pipe before refilling it.
“Yes.” Roberts puffed silently at his cigar for a few seconds. “I tried to get another nurse to relieve her, but none were disengaged.”
“So Miss Ward told you she wished to go?” with a quiet persistence which made Roberts glance at the sheriff in surprise.
“Yes. Why?”
“I wondered if she would attempt to leave after all,” responded Trenholm. “I warned her that she was wanted here until after the inquest.”