The taxi waited in a pool of darkness between two street lights. The long, low building which was the County morgue, a blue lamp over its door, stood below the street level. A flight of concrete steps went down to it from the sidewalk. Ten minutes before, Dr. Mark Williams had gone down those steps. Now he climbed back up them, stiffly, wearily, like an old man. Edith was waiting in the taxi, sitting forward on the edge of the seat, hands clenched. As he reached the last step she opened the door and stepped out. "Mark," she asked shakily, "was it--" "Yes, it's David." His voice was a monotone. "Our son. I've completed the formalities. For now the only thing we can do is go home." "I'm going to him!" She tried to pass. He caught her wrist. Discretely the taxi driver pretended to doze. "No, Edith! There's no need. You mustn't--see him!" "He's my son!" she cried. "Let me go!" "No! What have you got under your coat?" "It's the bell, the rose-crystal bell!" she cried. "I'm going to ring it where David can hear!" Defiantly she brought forth her hand, clutching the little bell. "It brought you back, Mark! Now it's going to bring back David!" "Edith!" he said in horror. "You mustn't believe that's possible. You can't. Those were coincidences. Now let me have it." "No! I'm going to ring it." Violently she tried to break out of his grip. "I want David back! I'm going to ring the bell!" She got her hand free. The crystal bell rang in the quiet of the early morning with an eerie thinness, penetrating the silence like a silver knife. "There!" Edith Williams panted. "I've rung it. I know you don't believe, but I do. It'll bring David back." She raised her voice. "David!" she called. "David, son! Can you hear me?" "Edith," Dr. Williams groaned. "You're just tormenting yourself. Come home. Please come home." "Not until David has come back.... David, David, can you hear me?" She rang the bell again, rang it until Dr. Williams seized it, then she let him take it. "Edith, Edith," he groaned. "If only you had let me come alone...." "Mark, listen!" "What?" "Listen!" she whispered with fierce urgency. He was silent. And then fingers of horror drew themselves down his spine at the clear, youthful voice that came up to them from the darkness below. "Mother?... Dad?... Where are you?" "David!" Edith Williams breathed. "It's David! Let me go! I must go to him." "No, Edith!" her husband whispered frantically, as the voice below called again. "Dad?... Mother?... Are you up there? Wait for me." "Let me go!" she sobbed. "David, we're here! We're up here, son!" "Edith!" Mark Williams gasped. "If you've ever loved me, listen to me. You mustn't go down there. David--I had to identify him by his class ring and his wallet. He was burned--terribly burned!" "I'm going to him!" She wrenched herself free and sped for the steps, up which now was coming a tall form, a shadow shrouded in the darkness.