Mrs. Nash accepted the proffered whisky with relief. "I need a bracer," she admitted. "Indeed, Betty, the shocking news of poor Paul's untimely death bowled me over; and then to be told that you had raced out here in a hired taxi, without either your uncle or me,--it--it--took my breath away." A shiver which she could not check shook her from head to foot and Doctor Roberts helped her to a couch, while Betty brought a heavy laprobe and threw it over her aunt. As she turned away Mrs. Nash caught Doctor Roberts' coat sleeve and motioned to him to bend down. "Is it really true," she questioned him in a whisper, "that Paul has been murdered?" "Yes. Hush, no details now," as Miriam approached the couch. He addressed her in his customary tone of voice. "Ah, a hot water bag; just the thing. You are fortunate, Mrs. Nash, in having a trained nurse right here at your elbow." "Thank you!" Mrs. Nash's piercing black eyes took in Miriam's appearance in a pronounced stare. She permitted Miriam to make herself more comfortable, before addressing her again. "Have you been nursing Mr. Abbott?" "Yes." Miriam stepped back from the couch and turned to Doctor Roberts. "I think I had better telephone for a taxi." "And my aunt can return to Washington with you," broke in Betty Carter as she joined the small group. "It will be an excellent arrangement." "I make my own plans, thank you," retorted Mrs. Nash, whose high color betokened a touch of temper. "Do you suppose that with this attack of flu I can venture out of doors again?" "You don't mean to say you propose to spend the night here?" asked Alan, returning in time to hear her last remark. "Certainly. My husband and I have been frequent visitors, and I know there are plenty of bedrooms." "But, my dear Aunt, suppose you get sick?" Betty gazed at her in utter disapproval. "I am sick already," declared Mrs. Nash. "Chills and fever--where's your thermometer, Doctor?" Roberts looked grave as he prepared the small instrument for her. "Your niece is right," he said. "This country place is isolated from Washington in winter, and with illness--" he paused to put the thermometer in Mrs. Nash's mouth; then he addressed Betty. "I think you also had better change your plan, and return to Washington." "I am the best judge of what I should do," she huffed and turned away. Roberts eyed her in speculative silence as he took out his fountain pen and wrote a prescription. Alan, who had been watching Betty also, turned to Miriam. "Where can the coroner reach you?" he asked. "You have not given me your address? Or let me have your bill?" he added, lowering his voice to a confidential pitch. Miriam colored warmly; the commercial side of her profession always embarrassed her. "I was engaged for an eighteen-hour duty," she stammered. "I suppose the charge is seven dollars." Alan drew out his wallet and pressed some bills into her hand. "And your address?" he asked eagerly.