“I’ll be down.” By a supreme effort he braced himself to meet the verdict. “You’ll come too, George?”
George nodded and blew his nose resoundingly.
“I’m with you,” he said simply, and together they descended the stairs.
Dr. Bellowes met them at the library door.
“We have concluded our examination,” he announced. “As my colleague, Doctor Carr, had already surmised, Mrs. Storm’s death was due to a fracture of the right temporal caused by a fall while suffering an attack of petit mal.”
Storm closed his eyes, and for an instant the earth seemed to rock beneath his feet.
It was over and he had won! He had fooled them all!
“I feared it, Doctor,” he remarked quietly, and congratulated himself at the calmness of his tone. “I should not have left her alone last night after the warning we had of a possible attack the day before—but I must try not to think of that now. Can’t I offer you something before you start on your ride back? A cup of coffee perhaps?”
Dr. Bellowes shook his head, but his eyes traveled to the humidor on the table, and Storm followed his glance.
“A cigar, then?” He opened the humidor and passed it around. “The matches are just in there——”