"Can you bear to hear it?"
"Go on," she said, hardly audibly.
He took back the cylinder, put it on the phonograph, wound up the instrument, and touched the lever. Through the strokes of the rain, lashing the window like a hundred whips, the whizzing noise of the machine began.
He was standing by her side, and he felt her hand on his arm.
Then through the sound of the rain and of the phonograph there came a clear, full voice:
"David Leone—your old friend Doctor Roselli sends you his dying message...."
The hand on Rossi's arm clutched it convulsively, and, in a choking whisper, Roma said:
"Wait! Give me one moment."
She was looking around the darkening room as if almost expecting a ghostly presence.
She bowed her head. Her breath came quick and fast.