There was a strange stillness about him--a rigidity which seemed to suggest something more than sleep.

And suddenly, with a stifled exclamation, he bent forward and lifted one of the folded hands.

It dropped like a leaden weight when Bryce released it, and he pushed back the man's face and looked searchingly into it.

And in that instant he knew that for the second time within a fortnight he had found a dead man in Wrychester Paradise.
There was no doubt whatever that the man was dead.

His hands and body were warm enough--but there was not a flicker of breath; he was as dead as any of the folk who lay six feet beneath the old gravestones around him.