He was dying—the man in the bed. That was plain. Bridget knew the look of mortal illness. It couldn't be long.
She sat there nearly an hour—thinking. At the end of that time she rang the hand-bell near her.
Sister Agnes appeared at once. Bridget had risen and confronted her.
'Well,' said the Sister eagerly. But the visitor's irresponsive look quenched her hopes at once.
'I see nothing at all that reminds me of my brother-in-law,' said Bridget with emphasis. 'I am very sorry—but I cannot identify this person as George Sarratt.'
The Sister's face fell.
'You don't even see the general likeness Dr. Howson thought he saw?'
Bridget turned back with her towards the bed.
'I see what Dr. Howson meant,' she said, slowly. 'But there is no real likeness. My brother-in-law's face was much longer. His mouth was quite different. And his eyes were brown.'
'Did you see the eyes again? Did he look at you?'