“You can use the library.” But the permission did not come graciously from Mrs. Porter; she never took kindly to having her plans thwarted even in trifling details. “Make your interview as brief as possible, Mr. Mitchell, as I desire to have Dr. Noyes see my son.” “I will come upstairs in a few minutes,” promised Noyes, before the detective could make reply, and, stepping past Vera, who had been a silent witness of the scene, the Englishman led the way to the library. Thorne, who had picked up his hat and overcoat preparatory to leaving the house, was detained by a gesture from Mitchell. “Come with us, doctor,” he said, and after a moment’s hesitancy Thorne went with them, ignoring Mrs. Porter’s indignant glance and half-extended hand to stop him. The library lamps were lighted, and the fire replenished by Murray some minutes before burned brightly on the hearth. Noyes, his manner suggesting the host rather than a guest in the house, signed to Mitchell to draw up a chair, then glanced inquiringly at Thorne, and the detective hastened to introduce them. “This is Dr. Beverly Thorne who is assisting me in my investigation of the murder of Mr. Bruce Brainard,” he said, and the two men bowed. “Now, Dr. Noyes,” as Thorne took a chair near at hand, “let’s be brief. Why did you leave here Tuesday morning?” “To catch the steamer _St. Louis_--but I reached New York too late.” “Humph!” The detective eyed him searchingly. “It is not on record that you tried to catch the steamer. I had the piers and booking-offices of the steamship companies watched.” “Did you?” Noyes’ raised eyebrows expressed polite surprise. “Why?” “Because I desired certain information,” tartly. “Why did you leave here without bidding Mrs. Porter good-by, or the nurses?” “I said good night to Mrs. Porter and her daughter on Monday night--they both were aware of my plans--as for the nurses, Mrs. Hall and Miss Deane, they had my written instructions and Dr. Washburn was to take over the case in my absence.” Mitchell looked at him steadfastly. “Then you claim that your departure on Tuesday morning was not on the spur of the moment?” “I do.” Mitchell shot an inquiring glance at Thorne, who promptly joined in the conversation. “I understand you were expecting a cable from England,” he began. And Noyes turned instantly and gave him his full attention. “Did you receive that cable?” “Yes.” “At what hour?” “Let me see.” Noyes thought a minute. “I imagine it was about twenty minutes of three Tuesday morning when I was called on the long-distance telephone and the cable message repeated to me.” “Twenty minutes of three”--Thorne did some rapid calculating, and when he spoke again his manner was grave. “It was at that hour or thereabouts that Deputy Coroner McPherson contends Brainard was murdered. Did you hear no sound from his room?” “No,” shortly. “I spent most of the night in this library, and this old house, with its thick brick walls, is sound-proof.”