Vance’s reply seemed to stun her. Her face grew pale, and her eyes were set in a glassy stare of terror. Then presently she sighed deeply, as if from a kind of mental depletion.
“Oh, what’s going to happen next? . . . I’m—afraid!”
“Nothing more is going to happen,” said Vance with emphasis. “Nothing more can happen. You are going to be guarded every minute. And Sibella is going this afternoon to Atlantic City for a long visit.”
“I wish I could go away,” she breathed pathetically.
“There will be no need of that,” put in Markham. “You’ll be safer in New York. We are going to keep the nurse here to look after you, and also put a man in the house day and night until everything is straightened out. Hemming is leaving to-day, but Sproot and the cook will take care of you.” He rose and patted her shoulder comfortingly. “There’s no possible way any one can harm you now.”
As we descended into the lower hall Sproot was just admitting Doctor Von Blon.
“Good God!” he exclaimed, hastening toward us. “Sibella just phoned me about Mrs. Greene.” He looked truculently at Markham, his suavity for the moment forgotten. “Why wasn’t I informed, sir?”
“I saw no necessity of bothering you, doctor,” Markham returned equably. “Mrs. Greene had been dead several hours when she was found. And we had our own doctor at hand.”
A quick flame leaped in Von Blon’s eyes.
“And am I to be forcibly kept from seeing Sibella?” he asked coldly. “She tells me she is leaving the city to-day, and has asked me to assist with her arrangements.”