"Go back, I say! This is no sight for you, and you can do no good." He still sought to intercept her as she approached, but she gently put aside his detaining hand, and, walking to the bedside, looked down.
Then, at that sight, her fingers sought for his with an impulsive feminine movement, and held them tight.
"Do not be afraid for me," she whispered.

"See! I am calm--I may be able to help.

Is she--dead ?" "Dying," said Musard sadly.
"Is it... ?" her voice dropped to nothingness, but her frightened eyes, travelling fearfully into the shadowy corners of the big bedroom, completed the unspoken sentence.
Musard understood her, and bowed his head silently.

Then, turning his face to the door, he beckoned Tufnell to approach.

The old servant advanced tremblingly into the room, vainly endeavouring to compose his horror-stricken face into a semblance of the impassive mask of the well-trained English servant.
"Go downstairs and get me some hot water," said Musard quietly.