“Where’s that girl? Not gone, has she?”
“Yes, sir. She went with Doctor Devoll, sir, through the corridor leading to the front office,” said the nurse, pointing to a door at the opposite end of the wardroom.
“When? How long ago?” Brady demanded.
“Not more than two or three minutes. You might overtake them, sir, if you hurry. I’ll show you the way.”
“Do so. I want the girl detained here.”
The nurse hurriedly led the way, Brady striding after her. They passed through a long corridor leading to the main part of the building and entered a brightly lighted office fronting on Hamilton Square.
Doctor Devoll was alone there, closing a roll-top desk.
“Has that girl gone, doctor?” Brady demanded the moment he entered.
The physician’s brows fell slightly, and his cold blue eyes took on a sharper glint. He appeared to resent the officer’s brusqueness. He no further betrayed it, however, and said, with characteristic blandness:
“She has, sergeant. Why do you ask?”