Now Miss Broad saw. The man beside Miss Casata on the bed was Mr Holland--Guy Holland--her Guy. It was when she perceived that it was he that her heart cried out. Miss Bewicke, who had only realised that it was a man, without recognising what man it was, came to her side trembling, wondering. When she also knew, she also cried aloud; but there was a material difference between the quality of her exclamation and Miss Broad's. Hers signified horror and amazement--perhaps something of concern; Miss Broad's betokened so many other things besides. The two women went running to the bed; but when Miss Broad showed an inclination to lean over and to touch the silent man, the other, as if fearful of what actual contact might involve, caught her by the dress. 'No, no; take care!' Even Miss Broad shrank a little back; for Miss Casata lay between. 'Move the bed!' The suggestion was Miss Bewicke's. In a moment it had been put into force. The bed was wheeled more into the centre of the room, so as to permit of passage between it and the wall, and presently the girl was at her lover's side. She knelt and looked, but still she did not touch him. No tears were in her eyes; she seemed very calm; but her face was white, and she was speechless. On her face there was a look which was past wonder, past pain, past fear, as if she did not understand what it was which was in front of her. Miss Bewicke stood at her side, also looking; her dominant expression seemed sheer bewilderment. He also lay on his back. The bedclothes were withdrawn, so that his face was seen down to the chin. No marks of violence were visible. His expression was one of complete quiescence. His eyes were closed, as if he slept; but if he did, it was very soundly, for there was nothing to show that he breathed. Suddenly Miss Broad found her voice, or the ghost of it. Her lips did not move, and the words came thinly from her throat. 'Is he dead?' The other did not answer; but, leaning over, she drew the bedclothes more from off him, and she whispered,-- 'Guy!' They waited, but he did not answer. She called again, 'Guy!' Yet no response. In that land of sleep in which he was, it was plain that he heard no voices. The further withdrawal of the bedclothes had revealed the fact that he was fully dressed for dinner, as he was when Miss Bewicke had seen him last, the night before. His black bow had come untied; the ends strayed over his shirtfront, which was soiled and crumpled. His whole attire was in disarray. There were stains of dirt upon his coat. Now that they were so close, they perceived that traces of dry mud were on his face, as if it had been in close contact with the ground. About his whole appearance there was much which was ominous. The fact that this was so seemed to make a fresh appeal to Miss Broad's understanding; probably to something else in her as well. 'Guy!' she cried.