And they listened again.
"Nothing bad, I hope," muttered Varbarriere, anxiously looking up like the rest.
A maid came to the window to raise the sash higher, but paused, seeing them.
"Come away, I say—hadn't we better?" whispered Doocey.
"Let's go in and ask how he is," suggested Varbarriere suddenly, and toward the hall-door they walked.
Was it something in the tone and cadence of this cry that made each in that party of three feel that a dreadful tragedy was consummated? I can't say—only they walked faster than usual, and in silence, like men anticipating evil news and hastening to a revelation.
CHAPTER XXXV.
I am Thine and Thou art Mine, Body and Soul, for ever.
In order to understand the meaning of this cry, it will be necessary to mention that so soon as the corpulent and sombre visitor had left the bed-room of Sir Jekyl Marlowe, Dives lent his reverend aid to the nurse in adjusting his brother more comfortably in his bed; and he, like Varbarriere, took instinctively a comfortable and confident view of Sir Jekyl's case, so that when the officious handmaid of Æsculapius assumed her airs of direction he put aside her interference rather shortly. At all events, there was abundance of time to grow alarmed in, and certainly no need for panic just now. So Dives took his leave for the present, the Baronet having agreed with him that his visitors had better be allowed to disperse to their own homes, a disposition to do so having manifested itself here and there among them.