It is a way they have; the police
are no respecters of persons; neither do they pry into the question of
motives. They are but poor casuists. A murder is for them a murder, and
a murderer a murderer; it is not their habit to divide and distinguish
between case and case with Hilda Wade's analytical accuracy.
As soon as my duties at St. Nathaniel's permitted me, on the evening of
the discovery, I rushed round to Mrs. Mallet's, Le Geyt's sister. I
had been detained at the hospital for some hours, however, watching a
critical case; and by the time I reached Great Stanhope Street I found
Hilda Wade, in her nurse's dress, there before me. Sebastian, it seemed,
had given her leave out for the evening. She was a supernumerary nurse,
attached to his own observation-cots as special attendant for scientific
purposes, and she could generally get an hour or so whenever she
required it.
Mrs. Mallet had been in the breakfast-room with Hilda before I arrived;
but as I reached the house she rushed upstairs to wash her red eyes and
compose herself a little before the strain of meeting me; so I had the
opportunity for a few words alone first with my prophetic companion.
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