Then Professor Hardwick told Braye what had happened. The others had begged the Professor to do this, and in a very few words the tale was told.
“It can’t be!” and Braye rose and walked up and down the hall. “I wish I had been here! Oh, forgive me, all of you, I know you did all you could,—but—restoratives——”
“We did,” said Eve, “I ran for sal volatile and such things, but you don’t understand,—it was instantaneous,—wasn’t it, Mr. Tracy?”
“It was,” replied Tracy, gravely. “Mr. Bruce was speaking, naturally and normally. He paused when the clock struck,—we ’most always do, you know, it’s a sort of habit.”
“We have to, really,” said Norma. “That clock strikes so loudly, one can’t go on talking.”
“And then,” began the Professor, “he was talking to me, you know, and I was looking straight at him, his face changed in an instant, his fingers spread, as if galvanized, his teacup fell from his hand, and in a moment, he was gone! Yes, dead in a second, I should say.”
“And—Vernie?” Braye spoke with difficulty.
“I chanced to be looking at Vernie,” said Mr. Tracy. “The outcry concerning Mr. Bruce made us all look toward him, and then, a sudden sound from Vernie drew my attention to her. She gasped, and her face looked queer,—sort of drawn and gray,—so I sprang to her side, and held her up, lest she fall. She was standing, looking at Mr. Bruce, of course. I felt her sway, her head fell back, and then Miss Carnforth came to my assistance, and we laid her quickly down on the sofa. In an instant, the child was dead. It is incredible that it should have been a case of sudden fright that proved fatal, and yet, what other theory is there? It couldn’t be heart disease in a child of sixteen!”
“No,” mused Braye, “and yet, what could it have been? I won’t subscribe to any supernatural theory now! It’s too absurd!”
“It’s the only thing that isn’t absurd!” contradicted Eve. “Remember, Rudolph, Vernie had the warning——”