sed it
carefully. Candles lighted, the fire burning; cushions thrown on the
floor in front of it and strewn with flowers! The table, too, covered
with flowers and with the remnants of a meal. Through the half-drawn
curtain he could see that the inner room was also lighted. Had they gone
out, leaving everything like this? Gone out! His heart beat. Bottles!
Larry had been drinking!

Had it really come? Must he go back home with this murk on him; knowing
that his brother was a confessed and branded murderer? He went quickly,
to the half-drawn curtains and looked in. Against the wall he saw a bed,
and those two in it. He recoiled in sheer amazement and relief. Asleep
with curtains undrawn, lights left on? Asleep through all his knocking!
They must both be drunk. The blood rushed up in his neck. Asleep! And
rushing forward again, he called out: "Larry!" Then, with a gasp he went
towards the bed. "Larry!" No answer! No movement! Seizing his
brother's shoulder, he shook it violently. It felt cold. They were
lying in each other's arms, breast to breast, lips to lips, their faces
white in the light shining above the dressing-table. And such a shudder
shook Keith that he had to grasp the brass rail above their heads. Then
he bent down, and wetting his finger, placed it close to their joined
lips. No two could ever swoon so utterly as that; not even a drunken
sleep could be so fast. His wet finger felt not the faintest stir of
air, nor was there any movement in the pulses of their hands. No breath!
No life! The eyes of the girl were closed. How strangely innocent she
looked! Larry's open eyes seemed to be gazing at her shut eyes; but
Keith saw that they were sightless. With a sort of sob he drew down the
lids. Then, by an impulse that he could never have explained, he laid a
hand on his brother's head, and a hand on the girl's fair hair. The
clothes had fallen down a little from her bare shoulder; he pulled them
up, as if to keep her warm, and caught the glint of metal; a tiny gilt
crucifix no longer than a thumbnail, on a thread of steel chain, had
slipped down from her breast into the hollow of the arm which lay round
Larry's neck. Keith buried it beneath the clothes and noticed an
envelope pinned to the coverlet; bending down, he read: "Please give this
at once to the police.--LAURENCE DARRANT." He thrust it into his pocket.
Like elastic stretched beyond its uttermost, his reason, will, facultie