Mabel looked across at them. Starr lowered his voice.
"Just ten days, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"How did you happen to hear?"
"Why, I was at the _Bulletin_ office when word was telephoned in. There
was something about the description that struck me--I began to
worry--then I went over with a reporter."
The door on Montgomery Street opened, and Dougal came in. He moved like
a machine. His face was hard, his eyes glassy, as if he had not slept
for many nights. He sat down like an automaton, pulled off his hat and
let it drop carelessly to the floor.
"Where have you been?" Elsie asked him.
"I don't know. Just walking. Anywhere."
"Did you--?"
"Yes. I _had_ to. I couldn't stand it not to."
Benton, the most composed of them all, pulled himself up in his chair.
"Let's have something to drink," he suggested. He called the waiter and
gave his order. A bottle was brought and the glasses filled. They
seemed to awake, around the table, and each one took a glass. Benton
raised his. They all drank in silence. Mabel, her eyes dimmed, held up
two fingers. Elsie smiled.
"That's right!" she said, and held up hers. Mabel gulped down something
in her throat.
"Well," said Benton, throwing off the mood, "we might as well have
dinner." He took up the menu and looked it over.
They all ordered languidly. The talk began in a desultory fashion, and
the group became almost normal--all except Dougal, who stared steadily
across the room to where, under a drawing was a scroll bearing the words
from _Salome_: "Something terrible is going to happen,"--and Mabel, who
did not speak and watched her plate. The restaurant, meanwhile, had
begun to fill up. Dishes rattled, voices chattered, new arrivals
appeared every few minutes.
Dougal looked up from his plate listlessly. "I saw Granthope and his
wife on the Oakland boat yesterday," he said. "I guess he's going East;
they had a lot of luggage."
"Did you speak to him?" Benton asked.
"No. I started to, then decided not to break up a honeymoon party. But
I heard her say something queer. I've been wondering about it." He
stopped, as if he had forgotten all about them there at the table. Then
he continued in a slow labored voice: "It was the queer way she said
it--the way she looked, somehow."
"What was it?" Starr asked.
"We were just opposite Goat Island." He paused and took a breath. "She
said--"
They all waited, watching him. He tried it again. "She said--'Doesn't
the water look cold!'--then she kind of shivered and said--'Let's come
inside'--we were just opposite Goat Island."
Maxim repeated the words: "'The water looks cold'--Oh, God!" he
exclaimed softly.
There was a silence for a moment, then Starr said:
"D'you suppose she knew?"
"How could she?" Benton asked. "Nobody knew till this noon, did they?"