He slipped into the white linen coat. There were thin smears of blood on
the sleeves and breast. He groped about the room, peering short-sightedly
for his case of instruments.

"John, was Mrs. Rankin any good?" she asked presently.

John lay back and closed his eyes as if to shut out the sight of
Mrs. Rankin.

"Don't talk to me," he said, "about that horrible woman."

Sutton had turned abruptly from his search.

"Good?" he said. "She was magnificent. So was Miss Bartrum. So was
McClane."

John opened his eyes. "So was Charlotte."

"I quite agree with you." Sutton had found his case. His face was hidden
by the raised lid as he peered, examining his instruments. He spoke
abstractly. "Magnificent."

When he left the room Charlotte followed him.

"Billy--"

"Well--"

He stopped in his noiseless course down the corridor.