“It is now or never!” he whispered.
He took the seemingly lifeless hand in his own, and bending over Mira Leroux, spoke softly in her ear:
“Mrs. Leroux,” he said, “there is something which we all would ask you to tell us; we ask it for a reason—believe me.”
Throughout the latter part of this scene the big clock had been chiming the hour, and now was beating out the twelve strokes of midnight; had struck six of them and was about to strike the seventh.
SEVEN! boomed the clock.
Mira Leroux opened her eyes and looked up into the face of the physician.
EIGHT!...
“Who,” whispered Dr. Cumberly, “is he?”
NINE!
In the silence following the clock-stroke, Mira Leroux spoke almost inaudibly.