Mrs. Greene eyed us vindictively when we entered after having knocked and been imperiously ordered to come in.
"More trouble," she complained. "Am I never to have any peace in my own house? The first day in weeks I've felt even moderately comfortable—and then all this had to happen to upset me!"
"We regret, madam—more than you do apparently—that your son is dead," said Markham. "And we are sorry for the annoyance the tragedy is causing you. But that does not relieve me from the necessity of investigating the affair. As you were awake at the time the shot was fired, it is essential that we seek what information you may be able to give us."
"What information can I give you—a helpless paralytic, lying here alone?" A smouldering anger flickered in her eyes. "It strikes me that you are the one to give me information."
Markham ignored her barbed retort.
"The nurse tells me your door was open this morning. . . ."
"And why shouldn't it have been? Am I expected to be entirely excommunicated from the rest of the household?"
"Certainly not. I was merely trying to find out if, by any chance, you were in a position to hear anything that went on in the hall."
"Well, I heard nothing—if that's all you want to know."
Markham persisted patiently.
"You heard no one, for instance, cross Miss Ada's room, or open Miss Ada's door?"
