I glanced about the room, as a tremor of horror seized me. I arose, shaking, from the chair and groped my way toward the door. Godfrey heard me coming, swung around, and, with one glance at my face, came to me and caught me by the arms.
"What is it, Lester?" he asked.
"I can't stand it here," I gasped. "It's too horrible!"
"Don't think about it. Come out here and have another drink."
He led me into the hall, and a second glass of brandy gave me back something of my self-control. I was ashamed of my weakness, but when I glanced at Godfrey, I saw how white his face was.
"Better take a drink yourself," I said.
I heard the decanter rattle on the glass.
"I don't know when I have been so shaken," he said, setting the glass down empty. "It was so gruesome—so unexpected—and then Rogers carrying on like a madman. Ah, here's the doctor," he added, as the front door opened and Parks showed a man in.
I knew Dr. Hughes, of course, returned his nod, and followed him and Godfrey into the ante-room. But I had not yet sufficiently recovered to do more than sit and stare at him as he knelt beside the body and assured himself that life had fled. Then I heard Godfrey telling him all we knew, while Hughes listened with incredulous face.
"But it's absurd, you know!" he protested, when Godfrey had finished. "Things like this don't happen here in New York. In Florence, perhaps, in the Middle Ages; but not here in the twentieth century!"