He stood still a moment, and then came over and bent near her, looking earnestly into her quiet face.
"Already," he said aloud, but in a very low voice.
His hand shook as he laid it on her heart, bending low.

Then he started violently and stood bolt upright, as an unearthly howl rent the air.
Nino, Ercole's queer dog, was close beside him, his forepaws planted on the upper step of the verandah, his head thrown up, his half-open jaws showing his jagged teeth, his rough coat bristling like spikes of bearded barley.
And Ercole, still a hundred yards away amongst the trees, shook his head and hurried forward as he heard the long-drawn note of brute terror.
"Somebody is dead," he said to himself..