And there, upon his tossed, neglected bed, in the full blaze of the
sunset, his sharp, sallow jaws dropped upon his neck, his cheeks
colorless and concave, his great eyes open wide and his hair unsmoothed,
Master Lees lay dead, with the roulette table upon his breast!
* * * * *
When Freckle had raised himself from the platform at the base of the
first flight of stairs, down which he had fallen in his fright, he
hastened to his own chamber and gave the Colony notice of the depletion
of its number.
A deep gloom, as may be surmised, fell upon all. Lees had been no great
favorite of late, and it had been the trite remark for a year that he
was looking like death; but at this juncture the tidings came ominously
enough. One member, at least, of the Southern Colony would never share
the winnings of Auburn Risque, and now that they referred to his
forebodings of the morning, it was recalled that with his own demise, he
had prophesied the failure of "the system."
His end seemed to each young exile a personal admonition; they had known
him strong and spirited, and with them he had grown poor and unhappy.
Poverty is a warning that talks like the wind, and we do not heed it;
but death raps at our door with bony knuckles, so that we grow pale and
think.
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