“Your reply is neither lucid nor comprehensive.”
“No, I suppose not. I wish you had seen who it was who started to descend from the carriage.”
“In that case, and as I did not see, or recognize the person, suppose you tell me who the lady was.”
“It was my sister, Mercedes.”
“Ah!” said Nick, and stopped. He was greatly astonished, but not a sign of his feelings appeared in his voice. He uttered the exclamation in exactly the same tone he would have used if Danton had said that the woman was the Queen of Sheba, or the High Duchess of Benkakakiak.
“Ever since the murder of Ramon Orizaba about two weeks ago—it will be two weeks to-morrow, will it not?—one trouble has followed another until it seems almost as if the family and the home at Linden Fells is accursed. My mother was taken ill the day of the funeral. Her illness came on so suddenly that I cannot get it out of my head that she was poisoned. However, we sent her away at once, and she is better now. She is at Newport.”
“Well?” said Nick.
“Well, Mercedes was preparing for an extended trip abroad, even before this misfortune came to the house. After the murder she was more determined than ever to go, and sought to hurry the preparations of her friends who were to accompany her on the trip; but they did not hurry fast enough, so she resolved to start on alone with only her two maids. In the meantime, Nick, she did not act at all like herself. I saw very little of her, and even that little was most unsatisfactory. She was strangely unlike herself.”
“Did you not talk with her about it?”
“I tried to, but she wouldn’t talk.”