The doctor went back to the dead man and examined him again; the woman crawled away. Again Sommers abandoned his task, nervously twitching the bedclothes over the cold form. He went to the window and opened it, and stood breathing the night air. There was another step upon the stair, and Sommers turned. It was Mrs. Preston. She started on seeing the doctor, and he noticed how pale her face appeared, even in the darkening room. He was also conscious of the start she had given.
"I have looked for you so long!" she exclaimed eagerly, hastening toward him, and then stopping in embarrassment.
"I was detained, hindered in every possible way," the doctor replied. His tone was chilling, preoccupied.
"He was ill last night, but I thought nothing of it. When I returned from an errand this noon, he had fallen into a kind of stupor—last night he was so excited—and I was alarmed. I had Mrs. Ducharme telephone for you then. He did not come out of his stupor," she added in a low tone.
Sommers stepped back to the bedside. "Did you—" he began involuntarily, but he left his sentence unfinished, and turned away again.
"I have completed my examination," he said at last. "Let us go downstairs."
When they had reached the sitting room, Mrs. Preston lighted a lamp and placed it on the table beside the doctor. The strong light increased the pallor of her face. Sommers noticed that the eyes were sunken and had black circles. His glance rested on her hands, as she leaned with folded arms on the table. They were white and wan like the face. The blood seemed to have left her body.
Sommers raised his eyes and looked at her face. She returned his glance for a moment, then flushes of color spread over her face and died down, and she dropped her face. He laid his hand softly upon hers, and spoke her name for the first time, "Alves." A tear dropped on his hand beneath the lamp, then another and another. He started up from his seat and strode to the window, keeping his back turned to the quiescent woman. It was terrible! He knew that he was a fool, but none the less something awesome, cruel, forbidding, tainted the atmosphere.
At last he said in a dull voice:
"Mrs. Preston, will you get me pen and ink. I must fill out the usual certificate, stating the disease that caused death," he added meaningly, wheeling about.