Sarah decided to go home before returning to the hospital. She wanted to get her medical bag and take it with her this time so she could check Webster Prescott’s condition more closely. She also wanted to check on the Ellsworths. They must be nearly insane after being held prisoner in their home for so long. She couldn’t do much but try to reassure them that their ordeal would soon be over, but she couldn’t just leave them with no news at all.
But when Sarah reached Bank Street, she saw to her dismay that the reporters were back in force. A clump of young men stood gathered on the sidewalk in front of the Ellsworth house, and Sarah muttered a curse when they began to descend on her.
“Who are you?”
“Do you know Nelson Ellsworth?”
“Do you know he murdered a woman?”
The questions came faster than she could even register them. Since she had no intention of answering any of them, she didn’t even bother to try. “What are you doing here?” she demanded instead. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“None of us killed anybody, lady,” one of the reporters said.
“Neither did Nelson Ellsworth,” Sarah said, pushing her way through them toward her front steps.
“You know him then!” one of them shouted in triumph.
“Are you in love with him?”
“Are you lovers?”
“Are you engaged?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and kept moving.
“Maybe she’s the one who stabbed Prescott!” another called.
This stopped her in her tracks. “What did you say?”
“Did you stab Webster Prescott to protect your lover?” a young man with a very bad complexion asked hopefully.
“How did you find out Mr. Prescott had been stabbed?” she demanded.
“How did you?” another one countered provocatively.
Sarah sighed in exasperation. “The police told me,” she said. “Now how did you find out?”
“It was in the World this morning,” one of them said. “A woman tried to kill him because he was getting too close to the truth! Was it you, trying to protect Ellsworth?”
Sarah fought her way through the rest of them and quickly climbed her steps, ignoring their shouted questions and innuendoes. Now she was very glad she’d come home when she did. She had to see Mrs. Ellsworth and make sure she and Nelson were all right after this recent onslaught.
Once safely inside, she didn’t even remove her cloak. Making a hasty foraging trip through the kitchen for anything edible she could find, she threw the things into her market basket and slipped it over her arm. Then she snatched up her medical bag and launched herself back into the street again. There was no need to sneak around the back way. She’d simply go in the front door and the devil take them all.
They were like jackals on the scent when they saw where she was going. She didn’t allow herself to hear the shouts or the questions as she made her way through them to the Ellsworths’ front door. She pounded on it, calling, “It’s Sarah Brandt!” so they wouldn’t be afraid to let her in.
After a few moments, the door opened a crack. She glimpsed Mrs. Ellsworth’s frightened face in the instant before she squeezed through the narrow opening and threw her weight against the door to help the old woman close it behind her. By then the reporters were pounding on it, too, demanding admittance. After making sure it was locked securely, Sarah led Mrs. Ellsworth away to the relative quiet of the kitchen.
“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I don’t know what we’re going to do,” the old woman wailed. “I thought they’d gotten tired of us, and now…”
“They found out someone tried to kill Webster Prescott. It was in the newspapers this morning.”
“That doesn’t explain why they’re here, though. Do they think Nelson did that, too?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Sarah said.
Mrs. Ellsworth looked pale and dangerously frail as she sat down abruptly in one of the kitchen chairs. “How is poor Mr. Prescott doing?”
“He’s still alive, or he was the last time I visited him, but he’s not doing very well, I’m afraid. In fact, when I went by the hospital to see him this morning-”
“Hospital!” Mrs. Ellsworth cried in horror. “The poor boy is in the hospital? He caused us a lot of pain, but I certainly wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Doesn’t he have someone to take care of him at home?”
“He has an aunt who lives in Brooklyn, but I just sent her word this morning, so she hasn’t had time to get here yet. He’s too weak to be moved, in any case.”
“Oh dear, oh dear, I knew something terrible was going to happen. My left eye has been itching since yesterday! That’s a bad omen, you know. Now if your right eye itches-”
“Mrs. Ellsworth, how are you doing?” Sarah interrupted, having no patience for a lecture on superstitions. “Do you have enough food in the house? I brought some things just in case.”
“Oh, my, yes, we haven’t eaten half of what you already brought. Neither of us has much of an appetite, as you can imagine.”
“Mother, what’s going on?” Nelson called from the hallway. The din from the reporters outside had drawn Nelson from his room. He came into the kitchen, a worried frown on his face. He hadn’t shaved, and he was in his undershirt and trousers. “Oh, Mrs. Brandt, forgive my appearance!” he exclaimed, humiliated. “I had no idea-”
“Don’t be silly,” Sarah said. “Of course you didn’t. I had to fight my way in here through a mob of newspapermen.”
“Good God!” Nelson fumbled for one of the kitchen chairs and sank down into it, just as his mother had. “When will this nightmare ever end?”
“Does Mr. Prescott know who stabbed him?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked hopefully.
“He thinks it was a woman,” Sarah said, “although he didn’t see her face. It was dark, and she was wearing a cloak with a hood.”
“A woman? That’s impossible,” Nelson declared.
“It does sound unlikely, I know,” Sarah admitted, “and of course, Mr. Malloy and I were hoping that whoever stabbed him was the same person who killed Anna Blake. Now we’re not so sure, though.”
“So that’s why the reporters are back,” Nelson said. “Do they think my mother stabbed this fellow?” he added bitterly.
“If they don’t stop their nonsense pretty soon, I might stab the lot of them,” Mrs. Ellsworth said with more spirit than she’d shown in a week.
Sarah smiled in spite of herself. “It wouldn’t help,” she said. “More would just come to take their places.”
“She’s right, Mother,” Nelson said. “Our only hope is to find out who really killed Anna.”
“And how are we supposed to do that when we can’t even leave the house?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked in exasperation.
“Mr. Malloy and I are doing everything we can,” Sarah assured them both. “In fact, Mr. Malloy believes he’s very close to finding the real killer.”
“Is it the same person who stabbed the reporter?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.
“We won’t know that until Mr. Malloy questions him.”
“I thought you said a woman stabbed him,” Nelson said.
“Mr. Malloy thinks it was a man dressed up.”
Mrs. Ellsworth frowned. She thought that sounded as preposterous as Sarah did. Then her expression grew calculating. “Are you visiting this reporter at the hospital in case he remembers anything else about his attacker?”
Sarah shrugged. “If he happens to remember something important, I wouldn’t want to miss it,” she admitted, “but I don’t think there’s much chance of it. Really, I just feel sorry for him. He was a likable fellow, for a reporter, and I can’t stand the thought of anyone suffering alone like that.”
“You’re right,” Mrs. Ellsworth said decisively, rising to her feet. “That poor boy shouldn’t be left alone for an instant. Give me a moment to change, and I’ll be ready to go with you back to the hospital.”