He's not dead yet, though: whatever Toole
might do, the Dublin doctor would not stay with a dead man; time's
precious. I can't describe how I pity that poor soul, his wife--what's
to become of her and her helpless brood I know not.'
Slowe grunted a dismal assent, and the major, with a dolorous gaze, blew
a thin stream of tobacco-smoke into the night air, which floated off
like the ghost of a sigh towards the glimmering window of Sturk's
bed-room. So they all grew silent. It seemed they had no more to say,
and that, in their minds, the dark curtain had come down upon the drama
of which the 'noble Barney,' as poor Mrs. Sturk called him, was hero.
CHAPTER LV.
IN WHICH DR. TOOLE, IN FULL COSTUME, STANDS UPON THE HEARTH-STONE OF THE
CLUB, AND ILLUMINATES THE COMPANY WITH HIS BACK TO THE FIRE.
Two or three minutes later, the hall-door of Sturk's mansion opened
wide, and the figure of the renowned doctor from Dublin, lighted up with
a candle from behind, and with the link from before, glided swiftly down
the steps, and disappeared into the coach with a sharp clang of the
door. Up jumps the footman, and gives his link a great whirl about his
head.
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