But it must have puzzled her, too, as it was certainly puzzling me.
She drew off her gloves, sat smoothing them absently.
“But of course that was nothing serious,” Miss Todd went on brightly.
“Things were all right after that, and Mr. Walter was devotion itself.
He came in every day.
He was nice to everybody.
We all liked him.”
Katherine moved in her chair.
“Did Mr. Somers have any other visitors?”
“Well, it was summer and his friends were all away.
There were the doctors, of course; Doctor Simonds had called in several.
But I remember no callers.”
“Were you on duty when Mr. Waite came in?”
“Yes. Both days.
The manager, Mr. Hendrickson, brought him up himself.
He had only the stenographer with him; she sat here until Mr. Waite opened the door and signaled to her.
A quiet person.
They came back again the second day, and I think they called up the notary from downstairs.
Mr. Walter brought him up, I believe, but I was at my supper at the time.”
“Was his son—was Walter Somers with his father at these times?”
“On the first day he met Mr. Waite in the hall and took him in.
But he did not stay.
He came out and rang for the elevator.
I remember that, because he brought me some flowers from the sickroom.
He said his father had suggested it.
He had just received a large box.”
I saw a quick flicker of suspicion in Katherine’s eyes, and I knew that her quick jealousy had been again aroused.
Flowers to her meant a woman, and with some justification, at that.
Men do not ordinarily send boxes of flowers to other men.
And this had been in midsummer, when practically all the few people Howard Somers knew in the city would be out of town.
“Flowers?” Katherine said.
“I suppose you have no idea who sent these flowers?”
“I haven’t an idea,” said Miss Todd, looking slightly surprised.
“Mr. Walter Somers would know, of course.
He came out and got some vases for them.”
Katherine’s face set, as it always did when Walter was mentioned.
Nevertheless, she was calm enough on the surface.
“And who brought these flowers, Miss Todd?
Walter Somers?”
“No.
They were delivered by the florist.
At least I suppose so.
An elderly man brought them.
Usually such parcels are left here at the desk, but he said he had been told to get a receipt for them, and I let him take them in himself.”
She stopped suddenly.
“That’s curious,” she said.
“I don’t remember his coming back this way, now that I think of it.”
“He delivered the flowers and did not come back?”
“He may have, of course.
I was pretty busy that day.