"And Mr. Gaston Max," added the man. "You'll find whisky and cigars upon
the table there, sir."
He left the room. Dunbar glanced across at Sowerby, his tufted brows
raised, and a wry smile upon his face.
"In at the death, Sowerby!" he said grimly, and lifted the stopper from
the cut-glass decanter.
In the room where Mira Leroux lay, so near to the Borderland that her
always ethereal appearance was now positively appalling, a hushed group
stood about the bed.
"I think she is awake, doctor," whispered the nurse softly, peering into
the emaciated face of the patient.
Mira Leroux opened her eyes and smiled at Dr. Cumberly, who was bending
over her. The poor faded eyes turned from the face of the physician
to that of Denise Ryland, then to M. Max, wonderingly; next to Helen,
whereupon an indescribable expression crept into them; and finally to
Henry Leroux, who, with bowed head, sat in the chair beside her. She
feebly extended her thin hand and laid it upon his hair. He looked up,
taking the hand in his own. The eyes of the dying woman filled with
tears as she turned them from the face of Leroux to Helen Cumberly--who
was weeping silently.
"Look after... him," whispered Mira Leroux.
Her hand dropped and she closed her eyes again.
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