But the lips, beneath the shag of grey beard, were tightly compressed.

No, this was not sleep.

It carried, as Byrne gazed, a connotation of swifter, fiercer thinking, than if the gaunt old man had stalked the floor and poured forth a tirade of words.
The girl came to meet the doctor.

She said: "Will you use a narcotic ?" "Why ?" asked Byrne.

"He seems more quiet than usual." "Look more closely," she whispered.
And when he obeyed, he saw that the whole body of Joe Cumberland quivered like an aspen, continually.