“What she says is true,” he told them. “Her place is in there. Let her go.”
Kate Marcy raised her head at the words, and looked at him a strange, half-comprehending, half-credulous gaze. They released her, helped her towards the bedroom, and closed the door gently behind her... The three sat in silence until the carriage was heard returning, and the doctor entered.
The examination was brief, and two words, laconically spoken, sufficed for an explanation—apoplexy, alcohol. The prostrate, quivering woman was left where they had found her.
Dr. Latimer was a friend of Mr. Bentley's, and betrayed no surprise at a situation which otherwise might have astonished him. It was only when he learned the dead man's name, and his parentage, that he looked up quickly from his note book.
“The matter can be arranged without a scandal,” he said, after an instant. “Can you tell me something of the circumstances?”
It was Hodder who answered.
“Preston Parr had been in love with this woman, and separated from her. She was under Mr. Bentley's care when he found her again, I infer, by accident. From what the driver says, they were together in a hotel in Ayers Street, and he died after he had been put in a carriage. In her terror, she was bringing him to Mr. Bentley.”
The doctor nodded.
“Poor woman!” he said unexpectedly. “Will you be good enough to let Mr. Parr know that I will see him at his house, to-night?” he added, as he took his departure.
IV