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We waited a little
while, and then Dr. Mead himself informed us that we might see our
friend for a minute.
Even in his half-drowsy state of pain Warrington appeared to
recognise Garrick and assume that he had come in response to his
own summons. Garrick bent down, and I could just distinguish what
Warrington was trying to say to him.
"Wh--where's Violet?" he whispered huskily, "Does she know? Don't
let her get--frightened--I'll be--all right."
Garrick laid his hand on Warrington's unbandaged shoulder, but
said nothing.
"The--the letter," he murmured ramblingly. "I have it--in my
apartment--in the little safe. I was going to Tuxedo--to see
Violet--explain slander--tell her closing place--didn't know it
was mine before. Good thing to close it--Forbes is a heavy loser.
She doesn't know that."
Warrington lapsed back on his pillow and Dr. Mead beckoned to us
to withdraw without exciting him any further.
"What difference does it make whether she knows about Forbes or
not?" I queried as we tiptoed down the hall.


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