He looked at them sharply.

A deep red glow, unmistakable to a physician's eyes, was upon some of them, extending from the finger tips up to the second knuckle.
"Hello," he exclaimed, "what's the matter here ?" In fact something was very wrong indeed.

For days Trina had noticed it.

The fingers of her right hand had swollen as never before, aching and discolored.

Cruelly lacerated by McTeague's brutality as they were, she had nevertheless gone on about her work on the Noah's ark animals, constantly in contact with the "non-poisonous" paint.