Doctor Sydney Angus Crang hung up the receiver, and with a placid smile at variance with the glitter that suddenly brought life into his dulled eyes, advanced toward the girl. She stepped backward quickly into the other room, retreating as far as the motionless form that lay upon the floor. Doctor Crang followed her.
And then Claire Veniza, her face grown stony, her small hands clenched, found her voice again.
“Aren't you going to help him? Aren't you going to do something? Is he to die there before your eyes?” she cried.
Doctor Crang shrugged his shoulders.
“What can I do?” he inquired with velvet softness. “I am helpless. How can I bring the dead back to life?”
“Dead!” All color had fled her face; she bent and looked searchingly at John Bruce.
“Oh, no; not yet,” said Doctor Crang easily. “But very nearly so.”
“And you will do nothing!” She was facing him again. “Then—then I will try and get some one else.”
She stepped forward abruptly.
Doctor Crang barred her way.