A little quiver of repugnance went through her at the sight,
swiftly followed by a sharp thrill of indignation. What was he
doing seated there by her side--this swarthy-faced stranger whom
she had disliked instinctively at first sight?
And then--suddenly it rushed through her mind that he was the
bearer of evil tidings, that he had come to tell her that Guy was
dead. She raised herself sharply.
"Oh, what is it? What is it?" she gasped. "Tell me quickly! It's
better for me to know. It's better for me to know."
He put out a narrow, claw-like hand and laid it upon her arm. His
eyes were like onyxes, Oriental, quite emotionless.
"Do not agitate yourself, madam!" he said. "My patient is better.
I think, that with care--he may live. That is, if he finds it
worth while."
"What do you mean?" she said in a whisper.
That there was a veiled meaning to his words she was assured at the
outset. His whole bearing conveyed something mysterious, something
sinister, to her startled imagination. She wanted to shake off the
hand upon her arm, but she had to suffer it though the man's bare
touch revolted her.
He was leaning slightly towards her, but yet his face was utterly
inanimate. It was obvious that though he had imposed his
personality upon her with a definite end in view, he was personally
totally indifferent as to whether he achieved that end or not.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217