She died from exhaustion.'
'I thought,' said Hugo, in a low, unnatural voice, 'that typhoid marked
the patient--spots on the face.'
'Not invariably. Oh no; but why do you say that?'
'I only meant that I hope her face was not marked.'
'It was not. You mean that you hope her face was not marked because she
was so beautiful?'
'Exactly,' said Hugo. 'And so Tudor brought the body over to England for
burial?'
'Yes; he insisted on that. And he insisted on my coming with him. I
could not refuse.'
'And now he, too, is gone! Tell me, was he expecting it--his own death?'
Darcy lighted another cigarette.
'Who can say?' he observed to the ceiling. 'Who can say what
premonitions such a man may not have had?'
'I heard talking before I came into the flat from the balcony,' said
Hugo abruptly. 'It went on for a long time. Was it you and he?'
'No,' the doctor replied; 'I was in here, writing.' He pointed to some
papers on a desk. 'I did not even hear him fall.'
'Yet you heard me?'
'No, I didn't. I was just coming to find out what Tudor was doing when I
saw you.'
'It is curious that I heard talking, and walking about, too.'
'Possibly he was talking to himself. Did you hear two voices?'
'Perhaps I heard only one.
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