A scream reverberated through the shed, above all the clatter of shuttles and whirr of wheels, and was repeated again, and again. There was a rush towards one point. The mighty engine stopped with a groan, and all the wheels were motionless. All the workers had deserted their posts,—nay,—not all. Dick stood shivering, grasping an iron bar for support.
Susy, stood confronting him. The look in her wonderful eyes was one that he had never before seen. No word was spoken. She passed on to join the throng, and Dick followed like one in a dream.
"Poor Jack!" "poor lad!" was heard on every hand. The crowd divided, and four strong men bore the battered and bleeding form into the private office. Dick saw it,—he followed close behind it. Outside the very sunshine seemed red. He seemed to awake from a dream. There was his friend,—the friend he had loved,—nay,—more,—the friend he did love still. And he? what was he? A murderer:
No one had accused him;—no one even suspected him. Yes there was one. Her eyes still seemed to glare at him with their mute accusation.
What did he care? She had caused it all. He inwardly cursed her; and cursing her loved her more madly than ever. There was no revenge in his breast now.
Hastily throwing on his jacket, he followed the ambulance on which lay the unconcious body, covered with a sheet through which the blood had already penetrated. A doctor had been summoned and he said life was not extinct.
When the Infirmary was reached, Dick entered, no one attempted to intercept him. But when the body was placed in the accident ward, all but the doctors and nurses were ordered out. Dick paced the corridor from end to end incessantly. He could not leave until he knew the worst.
He had long to wait, but at last the doctors appeared.
"He still lives, but there is no hope."
And with that terrible sentence ringing in his ear, he had to leave him.