If I knew now why Rosie had taken the basket of dishes,
I did not know who had spoken to her and followed
her along the drive. If I knew that Louise was
in the lodge, I did not know why she was there.
If I knew that Arnold Armstrong had spent some time
in the lodge the night before he was murdered, I was
no nearer the solution of the crime. Who was
the midnight intruder who had so alarmed Liddy and
myself? Who had fallen down the clothes chute?
Was Gertrude’s lover a villain or a victim?
Time was to answer all these things.
LOUISE
The doctor from Englewood came very soon, and I went
up to see the sick girl with him. Halsey had
gone to supervise the fitting of the car with blankets
and pillows, and Gertrude was opening and airing Louise’s
own rooms at the house. Her private sitting-room,
bedroom and dressing-room were as they had been when
we came. They occupied the end of the east wing,
beyond the circular staircase, and we had not even
opened them.
The girl herself was too ill to notice what was being
done. When, with the help of the doctor, who
was a fatherly man with a family of girls at home,
we got her to the house and up the stairs into bed,
she dropped into a feverish sleep, which lasted until
morning. Doctor Stewart—that was the
Englewood doctor— stayed almost all night,
giving the medicine himself, and watching her closely.
Afterward he told me that she had had a narrow escape
from pneumonia, and that the cerebral symptoms had
been rather alarming. I said I was glad it wasn’t
an “itis” of some kind, anyhow, and he
smiled solemnly.
He left after breakfast, saying that he thought the
worst of the danger was over, and that she must be
kept very quiet.
“The shock of two deaths, I suppose, has done
this,” he remarked, picking up his case.
“It has been very deplorable.”
I hastened to set him right.
“She does not know of either, Doctor,”
I said. “Please do not mention them to
her.”
He looked as surprised as a medical man ever does.
“I do not know the family,” he said, preparing
to get into his top buggy. “Young Walker,
down in Casanova, has been attending them. I
understand he is going to marry this young lady.”
“You have been misinformed,” I said stiffly.
“Miss Armstrong is going to marry my nephew.”
The doctor smiled as he picked up the reins.
“Young ladies are changeable these days,”
he said. “We thought the wedding was to
occur soon. Well, I will stop in this afternoon
to see how my patient is getting along.”
