"Beth, I'll go and get Vina—shall I?"
Terrible seconds passed; then her voice came to him—trailed forth, high-pitched, slow—an eerie thing in his brain:
"I thought I was a good queen, but I have been hard and wicked as hell. I'm Bloody Beth…. He asked for bread and I gave him a stone…. Bloody Beth of the Middle Ages."
"Beth—please!" he cried.
"Go away—oh, go away!"
Cairns' only thought was to bring Vina to her. Some awful hatred for himself came forth from the back room. He turned to the outer door, saying, aloud:
"Yes, Beth, I'll go."
The door shut and clicked after him—without his touch—it seemed very quickly. He descended the steps—a sort of slave to the routine of death—as one who finds death, must run to perform certain formalities. At the front door he stopped a second or two, as if his name had been called faintly. He thought it a delusion—and went out. Crossing the street, he heard it again:
"David!"
It was just enough for him to hear—a queer high quality.