"I must make a double excuse for this early visit, Miss Innes," he said
as he sat down. The chair was lower than he expected, and his dignity
required collecting before he went on. "My professional duties are
urgent and long neglected, and"--a fall to the every-day
manner--"something must be done about that body."
"Yes," I said, sitting on the edge of my chair. "I merely wished the
address of Thomas' people. You might have telephoned, if you were
busy."
He smiled.
"I wished to see you about something else," he said. "As for Thomas,
it is Mrs. Armstrong's wish that you would allow her to attend to the
expense. About his relatives, I have already notified his brother, in
the village. It was heart disease, I think. Thomas always had a bad
heart."
"Heart disease and fright," I said, still on the edge of my chair. But
the doctor had no intention of leaving.
"I understand you have a ghost up here, and that you have the house
filled with detectives to exorcise it," he said.
For some reason I felt I was being "pumped," as Halsey says. "You have
been misinformed," I replied.
"What, no ghost, no detectives!" he said, still with his smile. "What a
disappointment to the village!"
I resented his attempt at playfulness. It had been anything but a joke
to us.
"Doctor Walker," I said tartly, "I fail to see any humor in the
situation. Since I came here, one man has been shot, and another one
has died from shock. There have been intruders in the house, and
strange noises. If that is funny, there is something wrong with my
sense of humor."
"You miss the point," he said, still good-naturedly. "The thing that
is funny, to me, is that you insist on remaining here, under the
circumstances. I should think nothing would keep you."
"You are mistaken. Everything that occurs only confirms my resolution
to stay until the mystery is cleared."
"I have a message for you, Miss Innes," he said, rising at last. "Mrs.
Armstrong asked me to thank you for your kindness to Louise, whose
whim, occurring at the time it did, put her to great inconvenience.
Also--and this is a delicate matter--she asked me to appeal to your
natural sympathy for her, at this time, and to ask you if you will not
reconsider your decision about the house. Sunnyside is her home; she
loves it dearly, and just now she wishes to retire here for quiet and
peace."
"She must have had a change of heart," I said, ungraciously enough.
"Louise told me her mother despised the place. Besides, this is no
place for quiet and peace just now. Anyhow, doctor, while I don't care
to force an issue, I shall certainly remain here, for a time at least."