H.M. stopped abruptly. His expression grew fixed and far away, his hand poised in die air. An incredulous look began to dawn behind the big spectacles. He snapped his fingers.
"Excuse me," he muttered hastily, and hauled himself up from the chair. "I got to go."
He was out of the room, and the door had closed behind him, before anyone could speak. They heard his footsteps in the hall.
"Tetanus baccilli," murmured Ann. Her own look was startled, incredulous, and frightened. "But that couldn't be!" She appealed to Rich. "Could it?"
"Don't ask me. I refrain, Miss Browning, from pointing out—" About to say something eke, Rich paused. "There's a trap here," he added.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"If Vicky's going to die, when will she die?"
"How can I tell? Death from tetanus rarely takes place within twenty-hours after the onset.
Ann looked at the closed door.