"No. They were not," was my prompt reply.
"Then, who were they?" he asked, scribbling down my answers with his stumpy pencil.
"I—I don't feel well enough to be questioned like this," I complained to the Sister, who was standing by. "I've committed no crime, and I object to the police making a cross-examination as though I were a criminal. I appeal to you, Sister."
The middle-aged woman in her cool linen uniform, with a silver medal upon her breast, looked hard at me for a moment. Then, realizing the situation, she turned to the detective, and said—
"You must come to-morrow. The patient still suffers much from shock, and I cannot allow him to be questioned further. He is too weak."
"Very well, Sister," replied Warton, as he closed his pocket-book. "I'll come to-morrow. But a strange mystery envelopes that house in Spring Grove, Mr. Vidal," he added, turning back to me. "You'll be surprised when you go there and see for yourself."
"Perhaps Mr. Vidal may be well enough to do so in a few days," said the Sister. "We shall see."
And with that the police-officer was forced to depart.