"Stop a minute," he added, "and I'll come with
you." When we got there, my witch had already changed her dress, and was
waiting for us demurely in the neat dove-coloured gown and smooth
white apron of the hospital nurses. She looked even prettier and more
meaningful so than in her ethereal outside summer-cloud muslin.
"Come over to this bed," she said at once to Travers and myself, without
the least air of mystery. "I will show you what I mean by it."
"Nurse Wade has remarkable insight," Travers whispered to me as we went.
"I can believe it," I answered.
"Look at this woman," she went on, aside, in a low voice--"no, NOT the
first bed; the one beyond it; Number 60. I don't want the patient
to know you are watching her. Do you observe anything odd about her
appearance?"
"She is somewhat the same type," I began, "as Mrs.--"
Before I could get out the words "Le Geyt," her warning eye and
puckering forehead had stopped me. "As the lady we were discussing,"
she interposed, with a quiet wave of one hand. "Yes, in some points
very much so. You notice in particular her scanty hair--so thin and
poor--though she is young and good-looking?"
"It is certainly rather a feeble crop for a woman of her age," I
admitted.
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