The Black Mask — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

man’s body had been changed. She looked down into his face, observed the strong features, immobile in death, the thin lips firmly locked, the square chin thrust forward, defiant, challenging even now. Scofield Carrington had not wanted to die. The great financier, who had feared nothing, had not feared death. But he had not been ready to go. He had wanted to hold off the hand of death only a little while longer, but it had come relentlessly. And his fea- tures still showed the marks of the dead man’s struggle, the unhappiness of his last moments, which had come without the fulfillment of his cherished hope. Elsa’s eyes lifted to the bell that hung from the back of the bed, corded wire with a button at the end, the pres- sure of which had summoned her so often in the past few weeks to the side of her patient—had summoned her even now to his side. Some hand had touched it within the last few minutes. Whose? ; She lingered a while, baffled, immo- bile in the presence of the inexplicable circumstance. “Tt must be some mistake,” she said at last. She spoke aloud, to reassure herself and to reassure any one who might hear her. Somehow she felt a vague presence in the room. She dared not look about her, and, having spoken, she turned and hurried out of the room. The nurse was waiting for her at the office door. She noted the pallor in Elsa’s face, the agitation which her strained features did not conceal. Elsa took the hand she extended, leaning heavily on it. : “Some one has been and gone,” she said in a soothing voice. ‘You’re un- strung. You ought to—” She stopped abruptly. The Summons Their eyes met and they stood close, neither daring to turn. For the indi- cator had clicked again! It was the elder nurse who first sum- moned the courage to look, and when their eyes met again Elsa knew what she. had seen. ; “It’s 42,” said the elder nurse in a hoarse voice. Elsa’s head lowered, a shudder run- ning down her frame, and her compan- ion led her to a chair, into which the girl dropped heavily. “Sometimes the indicator gets out of order,” muttered the elder nurse. “It may be that, though I don’t recall its ever happening before. The wires may get crossed—or something.” Her voice trailed away. She knew that her assurances were unconvincing to Elsa—they were unconvincing to herself. She realized that her usual pres- ence of mind was not at her command. Disciplined in the shadow of suffer- ing and death, she was aware that, for the first time in her experience, she was confronted by the intrusion of an intan- gible element which eluded her under- standing. Carrington was dead. There was no one in his room. Yet his bell was ringing! “We ought to report it,” she said at last. “Some one ought to be in the room. It’s—” She paused as a young interne en- tered the office. Her face lighted up hopefully. “Doctor,” she said, coming toward him, “42 is calling. Won’t you—” “That’s Carrington’s room, isn’t it?” asked the interne. “Yes,” “Well; it’s Miss Lloyd’s case. doesn’t she go?” “She’s just been there. no one in the room.” “What?” stammered the interne. “And that’s the second time the bell has rung.” Why And there’s iz i¢books.com