"This light is ghastly."
There was little more color in her face than mine. Even the sunlight
seemed cold and cheerless. She came a little nearer to me.
"He was conscious--at the end?"
"Yes!" I answered.
Her breath seemed to be coming a little faster. Her eyes were full of
eager questioning.
"You were with him?"
"Yes!"
Again there was a pause. I was steadfastly silent.
"Don't keep me in suspense," she muttered. "He told you?"
"Yes!" I answered, "he told me--certain things."
She drew a long breath of relief. I could see that she was trembling all
over. She sank into a chair.
"I felt that he would," she declared. "I knew that he could not carry his
secret to the grave. Is the door locked?"
"Yes!" I answered. "The door is locked."
She was still pale, but her eyes were burning.
"Go on!" she said; "don't lose a moment. I am waiting."
"For what?" I asked calmly.
"To hear everything," she answered quickly.
"I have nothing to tell you," I said.
She stamped her foot with the petulance of a spoilt child.
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