The door opened and Dr. Belleville appeared upon the threshold.
The girl gave him a quick look before which he quailed. But he recovered quickly. "I sincerely trust you bring good news," he said, in tones of deep concern.
"The best," answered Miss Ottley, and drawing in her gown she swept past him with a glance of bitter hate, into the house.
Belleville looked after her, then turned to me, plucking at his jetty beard and frowning heavily.
"Weldon is better?" he inquired.
"He is dead," I said.
"Poor, poor fellow," sighed Dr. Belleville. "I am greatly pained to hear it. You were his friend, were you not, Pinsent? I can see that you are upset. Won't you come in and have a glass of brandy? you look quite done up."
"No, thank you," I answered. "I must get home and change these bloodstained clothes—there is to be an inquest this afternoon. Good-morning."
"Good-morning!" he replied. He was staring at the bloodstains to which I had purposely directed his attention. But he did not give a sign of agitation. His face remained as expressionless as wood.