“Then run upstairs, Jones, and ask him to stop here for a cup of tea on his way out, and—eh, just see if Mr. Burnham is in his room or the library.”
“Very good, Miss Evelyn,” and the butler departed with alacrity. He had just reached the floor above when he encountered the busy surgeon hurrying downstairs. Hayden paused only long enough to hear his message and then continued on his way to the drawing room. Evelyn greeted his entrance with a warm smile of welcome.
“Thanks, no tea,” he said drawing up a chair. “I will have a glass of water and some sandwiches. Did you lie down as I advised?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t sleep.” Evelyn’s hand shook as she offered him the plate of sandwiches and Hayden scanned her with concern.
“Don’t go too long on your nerves, Evelyn,” he cautioned. “Pull up while you can; rest and quiet are what you need.”
Evelyn moved impatiently. “I’m all right,” she announced obstinately. “Tell me, doctor, what is the matter with Mrs. Ward?”
“Oh, she is suffering from shock and hysteria; in a day or so she will be up and about again.” Dr. Hayden took a tea biscuit. “In the meantime bed is the best place for her.”
“What made her go to pieces?” demanded Evelyn, lowering her voice. “She is a strong healthy woman and in the three years she has been with us I have never known her to have a day’s illness.”
“Shock,” replied Hayden tersely.
“But—but she only saw the body just as I did,” objected Evelyn. “I didn’t faint from shock, and I don’t pretend to be as strong as she is.”