He had a dim memory when he awoke of somebody questioning him, and then
of being half-pushed, half-carried upstairs to bed. There was something
wrong with his head and his chest and he was trembling violently, and
very cold. Somebody was speaking.
“You must have taken leave of your senses,” said the voice of Hannah.
“I thought you were dead.”
He forced his eyes to open. “Doctor,” he muttered, “doctor.”
“Out on a bad case,” said Hannah. “I waited till I was tired of
waiting, and then came along. Good thing for you I did. He’ll be round
first thing this morning. He ought to be here now.”
She bustled about, tidying up the room, his leaden eyes following her
as she collected the beef-tea and other things on a tray and carried
them out.
“Nice thing I did yesterday,” she remarked, as she came back. “Left the
missus’s bed-room window open. When I opened the door this morning I
found that beautiful Chippendale glass of hers had blown off the table
and smashed to pieces. Did you hear it?”
Goddard made no reply. In a confused fashion he was trying to think.
Accident or not, the fall of the glass had served its purpose. Were
there such things as accidents? Or was Life a puzzle--a puzzle into
which every piece was made to fit? Fear and the wind ... no: conscience
and the wind ... had saved the woman. He must get the powder back from
her drawer ... before she discovered it and denounced him. The medicine
... he must remember not to take it....
He was very ill, seriously ill. He must have taken a chill owing to
that panic flight into the garden. Why didn’t the doctor come? He had
come ... at last ... he was doing something to his chest ... it was
cold.
Again ... the doctor ... there was something he wanted to tell him....
Hannah and a powder ... what was it?
[Illustration: THE LAST TIME HE LOOKED AT HANNAH WAS THE FIRST TIME FOR
MONTHS HE HAD LOOKED AT HER WITHOUT LOATHING AND HATRED.]
Later on he remembered, together with other things that he had hoped to
forget. He lay watching an endless procession of memories, broken at
times by a glance at the doctor, the nurse, and Hannah, who were all
standing near the bed regarding him. They had been there a long time,
and they were all very quiet. The last time he looked at Hannah was the
first time for months that he had looked at her without loathing and
hatred. Then he knew that he was dying.