The moment's interval in the anguish of suspense seemed interminable to
the group. "Drink a little brandy," Bayne counselled, hoping to stimulate
his powers.
He evidently heard, and sought to obey. The hand holding the untasted
liquor quivered, the glass swayed, fell from his nerveless grasp, and
shivered to fragments on the stone pavement.
Bayne sprang to his side and lifted his head. Ah, a drear and ghastly
face it was, turned up to the gorgeous sunset, the gentle ambient air,
the happy, fleeting shadows of the homing birds.
"Has he fainted?" asked Lillian.
"The man is dead!" Bayne cried with a poignant intonation. "He is dead!
He is dead!"
For while they had waited for the word that had eluded him he had gone
out into the great wordless unknown. His failing strength had thwarted
his will. His spirit had given him the slip.
XIII.
Every appliance of resuscitation known to science was brought into use,
but in vain. No scrap of paper, no clue of identification, was found upon
the body.
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