“Look, Cub! The cu-po-la!”
The words faded with her closing eyes, and the final horror in them made Cub Sterling lay her head against his chest, place his long arms under her breasts and raise the binoculars, which were still suspended around her neck.
“Lan’ sakes. It’s only a man. Jes, a doctor’s helper. And I seys....” Emma had found her voice at last, but Cub Sterling cut in:
“God Almighty! Look! And tell me what you....”
His words were directed toward Emma.
Matthew Higgins took the glasses from Cub’s hands and Sally’s neck before Cub said, “Tell me....” The expression on his face had convinced Higgins that he saw ... something ... vile.
A silence, like the high hysteria after a buoy-bell, spread over the waiting doctor. His eyes, livid with fear, turned upon the florid, gray figure of Matthew Higgins. And it was Higgins’ voice that brought Sally Ferguson out of her purple palaces. Its steadiness was more hysterical than any word that had been uttered.
“A man with his head turned away from me ... sitting at a small table writing in a book, his left shoulder is ... he is reaching for a hypodermic syringe and holding it up and.... The murderer! ... The murderer! The crazy doctor! The other Cub Sterling!”
The glasses hit the floor with a thud and Matthew Higgins started down the hallway before Cub Sterling and Sally Ferguson turned around. He must reach Snod ... reach Snod. In the same legal offices from which Sally had telephoned he grabbed the receiver and ordered:
“Elijah Wilson Hospital, immediately!”