The Three Strings by Natalie Sumner Lincoln

TWENTY-FOUR hours had passed since Evelyn Preston's discovery of the dead man, and the Burnham household had returned somewhat to its normal condition, chiefly through Dr. Hayden's soothing influence and sound advice which had proved an effectual check to the servants' inclination to hysteria, Burnham's temper, and Evelyn's nervousness. Marian Van Ness, in lieu of a trained nurse, had spent the night with the housekeeper, Mrs. Ward, who had finally quieted down under the influence of bromides and toward morning slept heavily. In the few remaining hours Marian had thrown herself on the couch in the housekeeper's sitting room and snatched a short nap before going to her work at the State Department.

To Evelyn the day had seemed never ending; she had gone out for part of the morning, returned for luncheon, and afterward had attempted to rest, but she was far too restless to remain long in one place, and about four o'clock in the afternoon she found herself in the drawing room gazing moodily out of the window, her knitting needles for once idle in her lap. The entrance of Jones with the tea roused her from her contemplation of the closed house of her opposite neighbor across the street.