“Brought it with him.” But Mrs. Porter’s eyes had shifted and Vera could not read their expression. “Listen, Vera, let us argue this matter out--I’m tired of beating about the bush!” Mrs. Porter’s air of candor would have convinced anyone not familiar with her moods and tenses--Vera gazed at her and remained discreetly silent. “I know that every door and window in the floor and the cellar were locked, because I accompanied Hugh when he went the rounds to see that the house was securely fastened on Monday night. Even the police admit that no one broke into the house.” “Yet they contend that Bruce Brainard was murdered.” Vera spoke almost without her own volition, and bit her lip until the blood came, but the words could not be recalled. Mrs. Porter’s hand flew to her heart as if to still its rapid beating. “Yes,” she agreed dully, the false animation of a moment before deserting her. “Who in this household would have a motive for killing Bruce?” Her question met with no response, and as the pause lengthened they avoided looking at each other; twice Mrs. Porter tried to speak, but her voice failed her, and she rose uncertainly to her feet. Vera sat as if carved from marble, and even the opening of the library door failed to draw her attention. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Porter,” said Mrs. Hall, advancing toward the desk. “I think you had better send for a physician for Mr. Craig.” “Craig! Is he worse?” Mrs. Porter turned imploring eyes on the day nurse. “I don’t like his symptoms,” replied Mrs. Hall, noncommittally. “And I dare not take the responsibility of treating him until a physician has seen him. Please don’t delay in sending for one.” By that time Vera was on her feet. “Can I be of assistance?” she asked, addressing Mrs. Hall. “Not now; perhaps later,” responded the day nurse. “Mrs. Porter, please tell me whom you desire called in, now that Dr. Noyes is no longer here, and Miss Deane can telephone for him.” Mrs. Porter turned an agonized face toward them. “No, I’ll speak to Dr. Thorne myself. He has been highly recommended to me and is the nearest physician this side of Alexandria. I never expected,” she added bitterly, picking up the telephone, “to ask any of his family to assist me, but Craig’s need is paramount. Don’t wait, Mrs. Hall.” And the day nurse hastened back to her patient. Vera was on the point of following her when Mrs. Porter signed to her to wait, and she listened with the keenest attention to the one-sided conversation on the telephone. Mrs. Porter finally hung up the receiver in a rage. “His servant’s a fool!” she declared, laying an impatient finger on the bell which connected with the servants’ hall. “He doesn’t know where Dr. Thorne is or when he will be back. Ah, Murray,” as that worthy appeared, “go at once to Thornedale and find Dr. Thorne and bring him here,” she wound up, sinking down on the couch, and a burst of tears relieved her overwrought feelings. “Oh, Craig, Craig--my dear, dear boy!”