Upon the bed, covered by a sheet, his
waxen-like face alone visible, was the body of the man who had been my
guest. Beyond, with the connecting door wide open, was the anteroom where
the nurse had been sleeping. Except for the ticking of a clock, there was
no sound to be heard; there was no sign anywhere of any disturbance or
disorder. I looked back at the nurse for an explanation.
"What is it that has upset you so?" I asked. "I can see nothing wrong."
She pointed to the bed.
"His eyes!" she murmured. "Go and look!"
I walked over to the bedside, and leaned reverently over the still
figure. Suddenly I felt as though I were turned to stone. The blood in my
veins ran cold, I staggered back. My gaze had been met with an upturned
glassy stare from a pair of wide-opened, deep-set eyes!
"Good God!" I cried, "his eyes are open!"
The nurse, who had gained a little courage, came to my side.
"I closed them myself," she whispered. "I closed them carefully. I
thought that I heard a noise and I came in. I lit a lamp and I saw--what
you can see! Fifteen years I have been a nurse, and I have watched by the
dead more times than I can count.
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