“Margaret, Margaret! Don’t go on so!” He caught her hand again and sank down on his knees beside her. “Be calm. It will all come out right. You fainted, that’s all. Don’t you remember, Margaret?”
“Yes, yes, I remember. You said you would marry me, and then you said, you,” she tore her hand away and pointed her finger at him, “you said I had murdered papa and murdered her! Oh, the shame of it, the shame!” And then she gave a shriek and began to rave, tearing at her clothes and her hair, until the latter fell all over her face. The paroxysm lasted for several minutes and then she fainted once more.
“I shall have to give her something to quiet her,” said the doctor. “She is in a worse state than I at first imagined. The strain has been entirely too much for her nervous system. We must get her to some quiet spot.”
“Shall we take her home?” asked Raymond.
“No, I would not advise that, Mr. ——”
“My name is Raymond Case.”
“My home is a quiet one,” spoke up the nurse. “If you wish you can take her there. It is not very far from here.”
“Besides,” the old doctor paused. “The coroner has something to say about it.”
“Coroner Busby has turned the prisoner over to me,” came from the chief of police, and he advanced a few feet into the room.
“The prisoner!” faltered Raymond. “Oh, yes, I suppose that is right. But you can’t take her to jail. I’ll go her ball for any amount he may fix.”
“Sorry, Mr. Case, but they don’t take bail on such a charge as murder.”
“But you can’t lock her up in this condition—it would be inhuman. I’ll have her taken to some quiet place and you can have a guard set—I’ll pay all the bills. Ask the coroner if that won’t do. She isn’t going to run away. She looks now more as if she might die!” and he gave a groan that came straight from his heart.
The chief of police had once been young and in love with a pretty girl and his face softened. Then he remembered what Raymond had said about paying the bills.
“I’ll fix it up with Busby,” he said. “Go ahead and do what you wish, only don’t take her out of town.”
A little later a carriage was brought around and Margaret was placed inside and driven rapidly to the home of Martha Sampson, the nurse. She began to rave again, but the physician gave her a quieting potion, which put her in a sound but unnatural sleep. She was placed in a pretty and comfortable bedroom on the second floor in the rear, so that she might not be annoyed by those passing the house in front. Two policemen, in plain clothes, were put on guard, one relieving the other.
In the meantime the news that Margaret had been adjudged guilty by the coroner’s jury spread like wild-fire, and the curiosity seekers could scarcely be kept away from the place to which the poor girl had been taken.
“The grand jury can’t do anything but indict her,” said more than one. “And, if there is any justice left, she’ll surely be electrocuted.”