Without losing a moment he hastened back to the old man with a cup of brandy.
"Here, sir, take some of this, and it will make you feel better," said he, raising his head tenderly, so as to enable him to do so.
Batavsky allowed him to place the cup to his lips, and he drank several swallows of the strong liquor, after which he lay down again.
"Thank you, my son."
"Do you feel better, sir?"
"Yes; it warms my old blood a trifle. It was very kind of you to get it for me, but I shall not tax your kindness much longer," he said, with a sigh.
"It is no tax to do a helpless person a kindness," replied young man.
"True, but I am so unused to kindness. Yet I am glad you came to me to-day, for knowing I have but a short time to live, I wish to confide a secret to you."
"Are you strong enough to talk? Take another sip of the brandy."
"Thank you, my son; keep it, for it may enable me to tell my story through, but I could not do so without it. The secret I am about to transmit to your keeping has been my secret for nearly forty years. I have hoped and hoped for thirty-five of those years that I should escape in some way, but the hope is finally dead in me, and I transfer it to you, who are full of life, youth, strength, and hope.