Nothing more was visible.

The clinging curtains hid everything but the long white hand.
He stood looking at it, unable to stir, unable to call out--feeling nothing, knowing nothing--every faculty he possessed gathered up and lost in the one seeing faculty.

How long that first panic held him he never could tell afterward.

It might have been only for a moment--it might have been for many minutes together.

How he got to the bed--whether he ran to it headlong, or whether he approached it slowly; how he wrought himself up to unclose the curtains and look in, he never has remembered, and never will remember to his dying day.