She started up from the cot, and stood beside it. She appeared to have regained her strength. Her color had returned, her eyes were normal, though expressive of mingled uncertainty and dread.
“Do you feel quite well again?” Doctor Devoll asked, with sharper scrutiny. “Are you able to go home?”
“Yes, yes, perfectly able. I must go home; I must go at once.”
“Before leaving you must give me a few particulars about yourself,” interposed the physician. “Where were you when you were overcome? Tell me what you last remember.”
“I am not sure,” she replied, with a manifest effort to comply. “I went to the Alhambra, a moving-picture theater. I had come out and was walking along Main Street when I——”
She stopped short, glancing apprehensively at the policeman. A deep flush suddenly mantled her cheeks. She hesitated, obviously embarrassed and somewhat frightened, and Doctor Devoll asked somewhat sharply:
“Why did you stop? What were you about to say?”
“I don’t know—nothing more, sir, I think,” she faltered. “I have told you all I know—all I can remember.”
Donovan suspected that she was lying, but he did not venture to interfere, and Doctor Devoll said quite sternly:
“Don’t try to conceal anything, my girl. What happened to you in Main Street? Can’t you remember?”