They deposited their still burden on an old-fashioned
couch which stood against the wall, and Knight searched about for
a lamp or candle. He found a candle on a shelf, lighted it, and
placed it on the table.
Both Knight and Lord Luxellian examined the pale countenance
attentively, and both were nearly convinced that there was no
hope. No marks of violence were visible in the casual examination
they made.
'I think that as I know where Doctor Granson lives,' said Lord
Luxellian, 'I had better run for him whilst you stay here.'
Knight agreed to this. Lord Luxellian then went off, and his
hurrying footsteps died away. Knight continued bending over the
body, and a few minutes longer of careful scrutiny perfectly
satisfied him that the woman was far beyond the reach of the
lancet and the drug. Her extremities were already beginning to
get stiff and cold. Knight covered her face, and sat down.
The minutes went by. The essayist remained musing on all the
occurrences of the night. His eyes were directed upon the table,
and he had seen for some time that writing-materials were spread
upon it. He now noticed these more particularly: there were an
inkstand, pen, blotting-book, and note-paper. Several sheets of
paper were thrust aside from the rest, upon which letters had been
begun and relinquished, as if their form had not been satisfactory
to the writer. A stick of black sealing-wax and seal were there
too, as if the ordinary fastening had not been considered
sufficiently secure.
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