My first glance at close quarters was enough; he was stone-dead, with his throat torn brutally out. His cheeks, too, were ripped in parallel gashes, as though by the grasp of claws or nails. Radiance suddenly glowed behind me, and Zoberg moved forward, holding up the carbide lamp.
"I found this beside your chair," he told me unsteadily. "I found a match and lighted it." He looked down at Gird, and his lips twitched, as though he would be hysterical.
"Steady, Doctor," I cautioned him sharply, and took the lamp from him. "See what you can do for Gird."
He stooped slowly, as though he had grown old. I stepped to one side, putting the lamp on the table. Zoberg spoke again:
"It is absolutely no use, Wills. We can do nothing. Gird has been killed."
I had turned my attention to the girl. She still sagged in her chair, breathing deeply and rhythmically as if in untroubled slumber.
"Susan," I called her. "Susan!"
She did not stir, and Doctor Zoberg came back to where I bent above her. "Susan," he whispered penetratingly, "wake up, child."
Her eyes unveiled themselves slowly, and looked up at us. "What——" she began drowsily.
"Prepare yourself," I cautioned her quickly. "Something has happened to your father."