"Better take a drink yourself," I said.
I heard the decanter rattle on the glass.
"I don't know when I have been so shaken," he said, setting the glass
down empty. "It was so gruesome--so unexpected--and then Rogers
carrying on like a madman. Ah, here's the doctor," he added, as the
front door opened and Parks showed a man in.
I knew Dr. Hughes, of course, returned his nod, and followed him and
Godfrey into the ante-room. But I had not yet sufficiently recovered
to do more than sit and stare at him as he knelt beside the body and
assured himself that life had fled. Then I heard Godfrey telling him
all we knew, while Hughes listened with incredulous face.
"But it's absurd, you know!" he protested, when Godfrey had finished.
"Things like this don't happen here in New York. In Florence,
perhaps, in the Middle Ages; but not here in the twentieth century!"
"I can scarcely believe my own senses," Godfrey agreed. "But I saw
the Frenchman lying here this afternoon; and now here's Vantine."
"On the same spot?"
"As nearly as I can tell."
"And killed in the same way?"
"Killed in precisely the same way."
Hughes turned back to the body again, and looked long and earnestly
at the injured hand.
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