Before he could say more, Mr. Underwood placed a firm, heavy hand on his knee.
"You stood by my poor boy, Harry, to the last, and that is enough to insure you a welcome from me and mine. I'm only doing what Harry himself would do if he were here."
"As to what I did for your nephew, God knows it was little enough I could do," Darrell answered, bitterly. "I was powerless to defend him against the fatal blow, and after that there was no help for him."
"Did you see him killed?"
"Yes."
"Tell me all, everything, just as it occurred."
Mr. Underwood little knew the effort it cost Darrell in his condition to go over the details of the terrible scene, but he forced himself to give a clear, succinct, calm statement of all that took place. The elder man sat looking straight before him, immovable, impassive, like one who heard not, yet in reality missing nothing that was said. Not until Darrell repeated Whitcomb's dying words was there any movement on his part; then he turned his head so that his face was hidden and remained motionless and silent as before. At last he inquired,
"Did he leave no message for me?"
"He mentioned only your daughter, Mr. Underwood; he evidently had some message for her which he was unable to give."