‘They’re waiting now,’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t suppose you’l believe that.’
‘Does it matter now? It’s a little late for regrets, isn’t it? You did it, and he’s dead. I blame myself, not you.’
His despair was bitter as she went out of the room without looking at him. For the first time in his life he felt afraid, for he realised he was going to die as he had lived: uncared for and in loneliness.
Olin and two patrolmen, guns in hand, came into the room. Dallas followed them.
Baird lay flat on his back, his eyes closed. He was breathing with difficulty, and sweat ran off his face, soaking the pillow.
Olin snapped, ‘Get that intern up here, and tel him to hurry.’
Dallas shook Baird’s shoulder.
‘Hey, you! Wake up!’
Baird opened his eyes.