"That will revive you, sir, I hope."
But the surgeon made no reply. He sat there glaring at vacancy for fully five minutes, and neither of them spoke a word.
Finally he pointed to the empty glass, and again Barnwell filled it with brandy, which he drank.
He was evidently trying to nerve himself up.
"What a strange coincidence, Barnwell."
"Very strange, indeed, sir; but do not let it weigh too heavily on your mind, I beg of you. Regard it as simply a strange coincidence, nothing more."
"Oh, Barnwell, it must be something more! I have ill-treated that man, and even his death may be laid to my door and I have abused others even to death–those whose faces I saw in that deep-down, horrid hole–they who welcomed me with such fiendish and exultant shouts," said he, with his head bowed low.
There could be no doubt but that he spoke the truth, and this made it seem all the more strange. He had always been a tyrant in his office, and many a poor wretch had he sent to his long home after he became useless to the government.
He had never been credited with possessing either fear or a heart, but now he showed that he was a moral as well as a physical coward, and was racked by most agonizing fears.
"Barnwell," he finally said, "see that the old man is decently buried, and a prayer said over his grave. Yes, be sure and bury him decently in a coffin, and a grave so deep that the worms may not reach it, and then come to me again. But see that you bury him tenderly, and say nothing of this to any person living."