“You cannot.” Mrs. Hale rapped out the reply, and Richards shot a quick look of inquiry in her direction. “My husband is under Dr. McLane’s care, and until the doctor gives permission he cannot be interviewed.”
“Dr. McLane,” repeated Ferguson, and his face brightened. “The doctor came in just before I did. Will you please send him word that I would like to see him before he leaves?”
Mrs. Hale considered for a brief second, then turned to Richards who was standing near the mantel. “Please touch the bell for Maud,” and as he did so, she again spoke to Ferguson.
“Why do you desire to see my husband?” she asked, and her manner had regained its usual suavity.
“To question him regarding the occurrences of last night,” answered Ferguson. “Have you already done so?” and he eyed her keenly.
Mrs. Hale shook her head, but before she could otherwise reply, Maud came into the room.
“Ask Dr. McLane to come here before he leaves,” she directed. “Tell him that Detective Ferguson and I both wish to see him,” and Maud vanished. Mrs. Hale settled herself back in her chair and regarded Ferguson attentively. There was a bull-dog air about the detective that warned her he was not to be trifled with. In spite of her haphazard characteristics and total lack of tact, she recognized determination in the opposite sex, though never giving in to her own.
“What did you ask me, Mr. Ferguson?” she inquired sweetly.
“Have you told your husband of the death of Austin Hale?” Ferguson put the direct question with quiet emphasis, and she answered it in kind.
“I have not,” adding before he could speak, “My husband was asleep when I went to our rooms after my interview with you this morning, and when he awoke two hours ago he complained of feeling feverish, so I forbore breaking the news to him until after Dr. McLane’s visit.”