Her voice quavered and broke. "I know what you mean! . . . Chester's dead!"
Von Blon cleared his throat and looked away.
"Yes, Ada. You must be brave and not let it—ah—upset you too much. You see"
"He was shot!" The words burst from her lips, and a look of terror overspread her face. "Just like Julia and me." Her eyes stared straight ahead, as if fascinated by some horror which she alone could see.
Von Blon was silent, and Vance stepped to the bed.
"We're not going to lie to you, Miss Greene," he said softly. "You have guessed the truth."
"And what about Rex—and Sibella?"
"They're all right," Vance assured her. "But why did you think your brother had met the same fate as Miss Julia and yourself?"
She turned her gaze slowly to him.
"I don't know—I just felt it. Ever since I was a little girl I've imagined horrible things happening in this house. And the other night I felt that the time had come—oh, I don't know how to explain it; but it was like having something happen that you'd been expecting."
Vance nodded understandingly.
"It's an unhealthy old house; it puts all sorts of weird notions in one's head. But, of course," he added lightly, "there's nothing supernatural about it. It's only a coincidence that you should have felt that way and that these disasters should actually have occurred. The police, y' know, think it was a burglar."
The girl did not answer, and Markham leaned forward with a reassuring smile.
