Miss Todd was very curious, and I think rather thrilled.
She led the way briskly to the sitting room of the suite, unlocked the door and threw open a window or two; but if she hoped to be asked to remain she was disappointed.
“In which room was Mr. Somers?”
“In there.
I’ll light the lights.”
“Thanks.
If you’ll close the door as you go out—”
Some of Mr. Waite’s irritation had returned.
He limped into the bedroom Miss Todd had indicated and stood surveying it.
“I imagine your questions are answered, Mrs. Somers,” he said crisply.
“Here is the room.
You have learned that I came here as I said.
If you believe that I came for any other purpose than to draw up a will, I will remind you that I had not spoken ten words to Mr. Somers in my life until that day.
I came because I was sent for, and for that reason only.”
Katherine moistened her dry lips.
“And my husband was in bed?”
“In this bed.
I sat down beside him, and I saw that he looked very ill.
It was a dark day, but the lamp was on.
I sat down here, as the lamp was on this side of the bed then.
I see they have moved it.”
There was a curious look in Katherine’s face.
“I wonder,” she said tensely, “if you mind doing again just what you did then?
Can you remember?
Try to remember, Mr. Waite!
Everything.
Every little thing.”
I could see that her suppressed excitement had its effect on him.
He glanced at her, and his voice was not so cold.
He walked to the hall door and opened it.
“Let me see,” he said. “Yes.
Walter Somers was outside the door, in the hall.
He opened the door and said:
‘Father, Mr. Waite is here.’
Then he stepped back and I came in alone.
I think he closed the door behind me.
Yes, he closed the door.
“I said:
‘Well, Mr. Somers, I’m sorry to see you laid up.’
He said something about his condition; that he was better, or getting better, and I put down my hat and gloves and got out some paper and my fountain pen.
After that it was strictly business.
He had the will pretty well thought out, and I suppose I was there only a half hour.”
“And that is all?”
“All I can recall.
“He seemed perfectly normal. But he was nervous.
I had propped my stick against the table, and once it slipped and fell.
I remember that he jumped as though I had hit him.
I picked it up and hung it on the doorknob, and—that’s funny!
That’s damned queer.”
He was staring at the wall beside the bed.