Almost as she spoke, the Baron and the doctor entered the room. The medical man did what was required of him. He felt the heart and pulse of the corpse—turned back the eyelids—sighed professionally, and asked how long it was since it had happened.
He was told that it was about an hour since they had found him.
“Ah! he has been dead longer than that! Three hours at the least, maybe four! I am afraid there must be an inquest, and it would be advisable in the interests of science to have a post mortem. A great pity, a fine grown lad—nineteen years old, you say—shall probably detect hidden mischief in the heart and lungs. I will make all the necessary arrangements with the Baron. Good evening!”
And the doctor bowed himself out of sight again.
“It is quite true then,” articulated the Baroness thickly. “He is gone!”
“Oh! yes, my lady, he is gone, poor dear boy! I felt sure of that!”
“It is quite certain?”
“Quite certain! The body is already stiffening!”
The Baroness did not utter a sound, but Miss Wynward glancing at her, saw her body sway slowly backwards and forwards once or twice, before it fell heavily to the ground, stricken with paralysis.