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.
“You mean…Mr. King?”
Ten!
“Yes, yes! Did you ever see him?”…
Every head in the room was craned forward; every spectator tensed up to the highest ultimate point.
“Yes,” said Mira Leroux quite clearly; “I saw him, Dr. Cumberly…He is”…
Eleven!
Mira Leroux moved her head and smiled at Helen Cumberly; then seemed to sink deeper into the downy billows of the bed. Dr. Cumberly stood up very slowly, and turned, looking from face to face.
“It is finished,” he said—“we shall never know!”
But Henry Leroux and Helen Cumberly, their
