“I suppose you will watch the case?” suggested Dr. Murney.
“With Girvan? yes. He and I had a quarrel last night, but I will not desert the poor old fellow now.”
“Ah, well, you need not fear having to wait long for the end,” observed Dr. Connelley. “It is a question of hours. He may be alive when we come to-morrow—but I think myself he cannot last out the day.”
“He will go with the first or second ebb tide, I should say,” corrected Dr. Murney; “most likely the second. Certainly I should say not the third.”
There was one question Mr. Hanlon wanted to ask before they left.
“No doubt,” he began, “Miss Moffat will wish to send for the rector; if she does, what am I to say?”
Dr. Murney took a pinch of snuff and looked at Dr. Connelley. Dr. Connelley looked out of the window and made no sign.
“I think,” answered the former uneasily, “I should let her send for the rector, and explain the position to him.”
“Precisely. But what is the position? He will never be conscious again.”
“In this world,” amended Dr. Connelley.