Miss Glendower had no doubt at all that old age was the cause of death. But Mame was visited suddenly by a grim suspicion. It might be old age. Or it might not— Before giving an opinion she would await the doctor’s verdict.
In a few minutes came the doctor. He was received by Mrs. Toogood, who led him slowly up two flights of stairs to the room of Mr. Falkland Vavasour. Overmastered by curiosity, and with an ever-deepening agitation fixing itself upon her—Mame had really liked this kindly and charming old man—she followed a small procession up the stairs.
She stood on the threshold of the room while the doctor bent over the bed. First he took one frail and shrunken hand and then he took the other.
“I’ve never heard him complain of any kind of illness,” she heard the landlady say in a low voice. “He never gave one the slightest reason to suspect there was anything wrong.”
“How long has he lived here?” the doctor asked.
“He has occupied this room for more than twenty years.”
“An actor, I think you said?”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Falkland Vavasour, quite a celebrated actor.”
“I don’t seem to remember the name. No doubt he belongs to a bygone generation.”
“He was a very distinguished man.”