Outside the cottage door he was met by Pattie. She had watched his approach from a window; and she looked up with grieved eyes.
"He will not live long, the doctor says. He has been worse for some hours. Nothing more can be done. And he keeps asking for you. I don't know why. The doctor thinks he doesn't know what he is saying, but I—I think he does know. And we thought—I felt sure—you would come, if you knew that he wanted you."
"My dear, of course I would. I would have come at once, if I had not already been on my way. I would do anything that I could for him. This is sad for you, isn't it?—poor girl!"
She gave him a watery little smile, then turned back, leading him in. Upstairs the nurse met them.
"Mr. Dale seems to know you are here," she said. "He must have heard your voice. He wants a few words with you alone, and I don't suppose it can make much difference now, either way—only of course the less excitement the better. He is very weak."
Then Cragg found himself in the small room with the dying man, whose face was altered and fallen. The others went away.
"Is the door shut? Shut it, please." Dale spoke in faint tones. "I've not much time. Pattie not here? That is right. Sit down, please. I want to say something."
Cragg obeyed, much moved.
"Anything you wish me to do for you?" he asked kindly.
"Yes. Pattie."