“Heaven help you, Sybil!” was the silent prayer of his spirit as he gazed on his unconscious wife.
Miss Tabby, who sat whimpering at the feet of the dead, now spoke up:
“I think,” she said, wiping the tear-drop from the end of her nose, “I do think as we ought not to leave it a-lying here, cramped up onto this sofy, where we can’t stretch it straight. We ought to have it taken to her room and laid out on her bed, decent and in order.”
“It is true; but oh, in a shock like this, how much is forgotten!” said Mr. Berners. Then turning to old Judge Basham, who had sank into an easy-chair to rest, but seemed to consider himself still on the bench, since he assumed so much authority, Lyon inquired, “Do you see any objection to the body being removed to a bedroom before the coroner’s arrival?”
“Certainly not. This is not the scene of the murder. You had best take it back to the bed on which she received her death,” answered the old Judge.
“Friends,” said Mr. Berners, turning to the gentlemen, who had all solemnly and silently seated themselves as at a funeral, “will one of you assist me in this?”
Captain Pendleton, who had just reëntéred the room, came promptly up.
“By the way, did you send for the coroner, sir?” demanded the old Judge, intercepting him.
“Yes, sir, I did,” curtly answered the Captain.
“Then I shall sit here until his arrival,” observed the Judge settling himself for a nap in his easy-chair.