“Oh, you hadn’t.” Burnham shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his dressing gown. “Well, if you must know, I came in to find out what you were doing in here. Don’t deny you were here,” as she started to speak. “I heard you from my bedroom and came in to investigate.”
“You did not hear me,” Evelyn retorted. “Mrs. Ward was in here.”
“Mrs. Ward!” Burnham turned and gazed uneasily about the room, and back at Evelyn. “What was she doing here?”
“She said she came in to straighten the room.” Evelyn paused in her contemplation of Burnham and also glanced about the room. Mrs. Ward had evidently arranged the shades and curtains so as to darken the library, and Evelyn, her eyes accustomed to the sun-lit hall, made out the familiar objects with some difficulty. “I hope Mrs. Ward did not dust,” she added as Burnham kept silent. “Detective Mitchell expressly stated we were not to dust in here.”
“And pray where have you seen Mitchell?” asked Burnham quickly.
“Here,” meeting his irate gaze calmly. “The detective spends a great deal of time in and about the house. Don’t you think you had better go back to bed?”
Burnham muttered something she did not catch. “Have you seen that jackass, Jones?” he asked in a louder key.
“Yes, he is looking for Mother.” Evelyn’s eyes were growing more used to the light and she saw that a drawer of the desk table was opened, and an over-turned scrap-basket lay on the floor near at hand. “Why did you lock the library door?”
“To prevent intrusions,” replied Burnham shortly. “The police have ordered this room closed; very well, it shall remain closed. Please notify Mrs. Ward to that effect, and also kindly tell Jones to bring me my clothes. I’ll——” a coughing spell interrupted him. “Tell Jones I’ll discharge him if he doesn’t,” he added as soon as he could speak. “Also ask him if he sent that telephone for Dr. Hayden.”
“I heard him do that,” volunteered Evelyn. “The doctor said he would be in after his morning office hours were over.”