"I believe so. Why?" His question met with no response and Roberts eyed his companion in speculative silence. Alan's complexion was not a healthy color, the physician decided in his own mind, and the unsteadiness of his hand as he strove to hold a match to his cigar was not lost on Roberts. The older man's expression grew thoughtful; Alan Mason had changed in the past few days and not for the best. Roberts had observed his tendency to go off alone for long walks, and his sudden bursts of talkativeness at the table and his equally abrupt lapses into long, sullen silence from which no one could arouse him. It was in such a fit of depression that Roberts had encountered him when about to motor over to Trenholm's for dinner, and he had persuaded Alan to accompany him after the latter had first called up Trenholm and received a hearty invitation to make one of the party. All through dinner Alan had chatted on first one topic and then another, the others seconding his efforts, but the three men with one accord avoided any reference to the tragedy at Abbott's Lodge or to the funeral which had taken place that afternoon. Trenholm found his two guests smoking in silence when he joined them a few minutes later. "Sorry to have been so long," he said apologetically, taking up a cup of coffee, before seating himself on the divan before the open fire. "There have been a number of petty thefts in the neighborhood, but I believe we've jailed the right man to-day, from the evidence just brought to me." He swallowed his coffee and replaced the cup on the table. "By the way, Roberts, how is Mrs. Nash?" "Much better this evening," responded Roberts. "If she continues to show such improvement, she may be able to sit up to-morrow for a time." "Ah, then Mrs. Nash can soon dispense with the services of a trained nurse," broke in Alan, with a swift look upward at the clock on the mantel. "Perhaps," answered Roberts. "Much depends, however, on what sort of a night she has." "Is Miss Ward still on the case?" questioned Trenholm, knocking the ashes from his pipe before refilling it. "Yes." Roberts puffed silently at his cigar for a few seconds. "I tried to get another nurse to relieve her, but none were disengaged." "So Miss Ward told you she wished to go?" with a quiet persistence which made Roberts glance at the sheriff in surprise. "Yes. Why?" "I wondered if she would attempt to leave after all," responded Trenholm. "I warned her that she was wanted here until after the inquest." "Wanted?" Alan dropped the cigar from his nervous fingers and hastily stooped to pick it up. When he sat back his face was flushed. "Wanted--for what?" "As chief witness. Hello, who's here?"--as the knocker on the front door sounded in three hurried blows.