“I’d adore it. I’ve always longed to do something exciting—something . . . like that. . . .” She extended her hand toward the milling crowds below.
It was easy to understand her reaction after her years of monotonous service to an invalid in the dreary Greene mansion.
At that moment I happened to look up, and, to my surprise, Heath was standing in the doorway scanning the groups of visitors. He appeared troubled and unusually grim, and there was a nervous intentness in the way he moved his head. I raised my hand to attract his attention, and he immediately came to where we stood.
“The Chief wants you at the office right away, Mr. Vance.” There was an ominousness in his tone. “He sent me over to get you.”
Ada looked at him steadily, and a pallor of fear overspread her face.
“Well, well!” Vance shrugged in mock resignation. “Just when we were getting interested in the sights. But we must obey the Chief—eh, what, Miss Greene?”
But, despite his attempt to make light of Markham’s unexpected summons, Ada was strangely silent; and as we rode back to the office she did not speak but sat tensely, her unseeing eyes staring straight ahead.
It seemed an interminable time before we reached the Criminal Courts Building. The traffic was congested; and there was even a long delay at the elevator. Vance appeared to take the situation calmly; but Heath’s lips were compressed, and he breathed heavily through his nose, like a man laboring under tense excitement.
As we entered the District Attorney’s office Markham rose and looked at the girl with a great tenderness.
“You must be brave, Miss Greene,” he said, in a quiet, sympathetic voice. “Something tragic and unforeseen has happened. And as you will have to be told of it sooner or later——”