boards beneath their boots. I hear their voices— low, monotonous—but not their words. Sue''s voice I do not hear at all. I sit upon the bed until they come, and then I stand and curtsey. ''Susan,'' says Richard quietly. ''My wife''s maid.'' They nod. I say nothing, yet. But I think my look must be strange. I see them studying me. Richard also watches. Then he comes close.
''A faithful girl,'' he says to the doctors. ''Her strength has been sadly over-taxed, these past two weeks.'' He makes me walk from the bed to the arm-chair, puts me in the light of the window. ''Sit here,''
he says gently, ''in your mistress''s chair. Be calm, now. These gentlemen only wish to ask you a number of trifling questions. You must answer them honestly.''
He presses my hand. I think he does it to reassure or to warn me; then I feel his fingers close about one of mine. I still wear my wedding-ring. He draws it free and holds it, hidden, against his palm.
''Very good,'' says one of the doctors, more satisfied now. The other makes notes in a book. I watch him turn a page and, suddenly, long for paper. ''Very good. We have seen your mistress. You do well to think of her comfort and health for—I am sorry to tell you this— we fear she is ill. Very ill indeed. You know she believes her name to be your name, her history one that resembles yours? You know that?''
Richard watches.