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Chapter III. The Night Of The Tragedy
Isawthatafaintstreakofdaylightwasshowingthroughthecurtainsofthewindows,andthattheclockonthemantelpiecepointedtocloseuponfiveo’clock.
Astrangledcryfromthebedstartledme.Afreshaccessofpainseizedtheunfortunateoldlady.Theconvulsionswereofaviolenceterribletobehold.Everythingwasconfusion.Wethrongedroundher,powerlesstohelporalleviate.Afinalconvulsionliftedherfromthebed,untilsheappearedtorestuponherheadandherheels,withherbodyarchedinanextraordinarymanner.InvainMaryandJohntriedtoadministermorebrandy.Themomentsflew.Againthebodyarcheditselfinthatpeculiarfashion.
Atthatmoment,Dr.Bauersteinpushedhiswayauthoritativelyintotheroom.Foroneinstanthestoppeddead,staringatthefigureonthebed,and,atthesameinstant,Mrs.Inglethorpcriedoutinastrangledvoice,hereyesfixedonthedoctor:
“Alfred—Alfred——”Thenshefellbackmotionlessonthepillows.
Withastride,thedoctorreachedthebed,andseizingherarmsworkedthemenergetically,applyingwhatIknewtobeartificialrespiration.Heissuedafewshortsharporderstotheservants.Animperiouswaveofhishanddroveusalltothedoor.Wewatchedhim,fascinated,thoughIthinkweallknewinourheartsthatitwastoolate,andthatnothingcouldbedonenow.Icouldseebytheexpressiononhisfacethathehimselfhadlittlehope.
Finallyheabandonedhistask,shakinghisheadgravely.Atthatmoment,weheardfootstepsoutside,andDr.Wilkins,Mrs.
