"To-day is Monday the twenty-second. As I told you, the day was Saturday the twentieth. By the way, you never received Betty's telegram?"
"No, it must have reached Bangor just after I left. Probably, it never occurred to Aunt Livy to have it relayed to me on the train."
"No great matter. There was nothing to be done but to put the poor girl decently away."
"You mean that you've had the funeral?"
"Yes, this morning. We could get no word of you, and I rather pushed it on Betty's account."
"Was there an autopsy?"
"I couldn't see any reason for it. The general indications were those of cerebral hemorrhage, and I had no hesitation in giving apoplexy as the cause of death. Yes, I know I changed my mind about Graeme, but in this case there could be no doubt about it."
"She seemed to be in excellent general health," I remarked. "Had you ever noticed any premonitory signs—you know what I am trying to say?"
"I never had Miss Trevor as a patient," said Marcy, "and so I can't give any definite opinion."
"But you wouldn't put her down—I mean on the strength of your general observation—as predisposed to that sort of thing?"