“Collapse from cardiac failure.”
“I shall stay here to-night,” said Nurse Ives.
“Do so, nurse. I should wish you to stay for the next day or two, as you will probably have to look after the mother. She is certain to be terribly prostrated; I am going to her now. I sent Miss Evershed to break the news to her.”
“That is a kind girl, a fine girl,” said Nurse Ives. As she spoke she raised her eyes and fixed them on Tarbot’s face. Her glance took him by surprise. He looked away, and a dull red crept into the woman’s face. She tightened her thin lips, and there came an ominous gleam in her pale blue eyes.
“Is Sir Richard here?” she asked after a moment.
“No, he has gone. By the way, nurse, don’t throw away that last bottle of medicine.”
“You had better take it with you, Dr. Tarbot.”
“No, I will not do that. Leave it where it can be got when the moment arrives. Put it into the cupboard and lock the cupboard. Mrs. Pelham will not change the arrangement of the room for some time. I shall write a certificate of death in the morning.”
Once again Tarbot strode up to the bed and looked at the body. The child was now faintly smiling with that ineffable smile of peace which death seems always to give. Heaving a brief sigh of satisfaction, Tarbot turned on his heel and left the room.