“There’s one other question I’d like to ask, doctor. How long was it after Miss Ada had been wounded before you examined her?”
“The butler’s already told us, Mr. Vance,” interposed Heath impatiently. “The doctor got here in half an hour.”
“Yes, that’s about right.” Von Blon’s tone was smooth and matter-of-fact. “I was unfortunately out on a call when Sproot phoned, but I returned about fifteen minutes later, and hurried right over. Luckily I live near here—in East 48th Street.”
“And was Miss Ada still unconscious when you arrived?”
“Yes. She had lost considerable blood. The cook, however, had put a towel-compress on the wound, which of course helped.”
Vance thanked him and rose.
“And now, if you’ll be good enough to take us to your patient, we’ll be very grateful.”
“As little excitement as possible, you understand,” admonished Von Blon, as he got up and led the way up-stairs.
Sibella and Chester seemed undecided about accompanying us; but as I turned into the hall I saw a look of interrogation flash between them, and a moment later they too joined us in the upper hall.