"Death is always a shock," she said quietly, and again a wintry little smile touched her lips. "But—don't think me unkind, Dr. Anstice—I am glad I was alone with him—at the end."
In spite of himself a great amazement shook him at her words. Although her meaning was a mystery to him, there was no doubt she had spoken in perfect sincerity; and in the midst of his inward turmoil Anstice found time to wonder exactly what she meant by this curious speech. Somehow he could not help connecting the odd look which her face still held with the strange words she had used; and he wondered what had been the manner of Cheniston's passing.
"Mrs. Cheniston"—Iris started as his voice fell on her ears—"you will come away—now? There is nothing for you to do here. And you should try to sleep——"
"Sleep?" She glanced up at him with an indescribably dreary look in her eyes. "I could not sleep, Dr. Anstice. If you will let me stay with you"—her voice shook a little—"I should be glad. I—I don't want to be alone—just yet."
"Of course you don't." He spoke promptly. "And you shall certainly stay with me, if you will. But—will it trouble you to make me a cup of coffee, Mrs. Cheniston? I'm awfully sorry to bother you, but I've had nothing to eat for some time——"
At another moment she might have seen through his subterfuge; but now, her wits dulled, her mind clouded by the scene through which she had lately passed, she accepted his petition as genuine.
"Of course I will get you some coffee—at once." She moved towards the door as she spoke. "I—I am so sorry I did not think of it before."
When she had gone he went quickly in search of Garnett, and explained what service he required of the stalwart Australian.
"Of course—we'll carry him, bed and all, into another room," said Garnett readily. "That window must be guarded, and we can't ask the poor girl to enter the room with her husband lying dead there. Let's hustle, while she's busy—the little room 'way across there will do."
Accordingly when Iris re-entered the room, rather shrinkingly, to acquaint Anstice with the fact that a meal awaited him, she found an empty space where the bed had stood; and although her eyes widened she said nothing on the subject—an omission for which Anstice was thankful, for the night's work had been a strain on him also; and he was in no humour for further discussion at the moment.