“No messenger came—only ’Stashie just now. I started the instant she—”
“Have you the paper—the contract—whatever it—”
Rankin showed a flash of white in his pocket. “Is she able to sign it?”
“Oh, she must! She won’t have an instant’s peace until she does. She has been wild because you were so late in—”
Their hurried, broken colloquy was cut short by a nurse who came to Dr. Melton, saying, “The patient is always asking if the gentleman who is to—”
“Yes, yes; he is here.” The doctor motioned her to precede them. “Go in; you’re needed as a witness.”
He held Rankin back an instant at the door. “Remember! No heroics! Just have the signing done as quickly as possible and get out!” His little wizened face looked ghastly in the dim light of the hall, but his voice was firm, and his hand did not tremble.
Rankin followed him into the bedroom, which was filled with a strong odor of antiseptics. The nurse turned on the electric light, shading it with her hand so that the light fell only on the lower part of the bed, leaving Lydia’s head in the shadow.
She lay very straight and stark, as though, thought Rankin despairingly, she were already dead. Her right arm was out over the sheet, her thin hand nerveless. Her face was very white, her lips swollen and bleeding as though she had bitten them repeatedly. She was absolutely motionless, lying on her back with closed eyes. At the slight sound made by the men in entering, she opened her eyes and looked at them. Every vestige of color dropped out of Rankin’s face. Her eyes were alive, sane, exalted—Lydia’s own eyes again.
He was holding the paper open in his hand, and without a word knelt down by the bed, offering it to her mutely. Their eyes met in a long gaze. The doctor and nurse looked away from this mute communion. Rankin put a pen in Lydia’s fingers and held up the paper. With, a faint, sighing breath, loud in the silent room, she raised her hand. It fell to the bed again. Dr. Melton then knelt beside her, put his own sinewy, corded fingers around it and guided it to the paper. The few lines were traced. Lydia’s hand dropped and her eyes closed. Rankin stood up to go.