"You ought to turn in," he said quietly. "Good night."
"Good night."
He went out and started to descend the stairs; but somebody was banging at the lower door, entering clumsily, and in haste.
"Louis!" panted Portlaw, "they say Hamil is dying—"
"Damn you," whispered Malcourt fiercely, "will you shut your cursed mouth!"
Then slowly he turned, leaden-footed, head hanging, and ascended the stairs once more to the room where his wife had been. She was standing there, pale as a corpse, struggling into a heavy coat.
"Did you—hear?"
"Yes."
He aided her with her coat.
"Do you think you had better go over?"