When he did, though, he hurried bunglingly, in spite
of a nervous flash in which after accidentally touching the revolver in his
pocket he almost threw it through the pane of the nearest window before he
considered. A moment, though, and he was back with a spilling tumbler.
"Water," said Mr. Piper with querulous satisfaction. "Give her water."
Oliver hesitated. "Where's she shot?" he said sharply.
"I don't know. Oh, I don't know. But I shot her. I shot her. Poor Rose."
It was certainly odd, there being no blood about, thought Oliver
detachedly. Internal wounds? Possibly, but even so. He dipped his fingers
in the glass of water, bent over Mrs. Severance and sprinkled the drops
as near her closed eyelids as possible. No sound came from her and not a
muscle of her body moved, but the delicate skin of the eyelids shivered
momentarily. Oliver drew a long breath and stepped back.
"She's dead," said Mr. Piper. "She's dead." And he began to weep, very
quietly with a mouselike sound and the slow horrible tears of age. "No use
trying water on her," said Oliver loudly, and again he thought he saw the
skin of the eyelids twitch a little.
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