“Perhaps,” said Fox, “if he could see you, my lord, he might make a greater effort to speak.”
“He can see me.”
Fox reached out a massive arm and tilted the lamp. The figure at the foot of the bed was thrown into strong relief. Lord Charles blinked in the sudden glare but did not move.
“Will you speak to him, my lord?”
“Gabriel, do you know me?”
“Will you ask him who attacked him, my lord?”
“It is horrible — now — when he—”
“He might manage to answer you,” said Fox.
“Gabriel, do you know who hurt you?”
The frown deepened and the one eye and mouth opened so widely that Lord Wutherwood’s face looked like a mask in a nightmare. There was a sharp violence of sound and then silence. Fox turned away tactfully and the nurse’s hands went out to the hem of the sheet.