"Give me your hand!" he whispered. I did so, and he pressed within it a hard, bulbous object. "Put in—in your pocket. Keep it safe!" he gasped. "It will—ah."
I obeyed him without glancing at what he had given me. Then I got up and rang the bell. A great change had come over him. The surgeon responded to my call.
"It is the end!" he said.
Weldon broke into a fit of coughing and beat the bedclothes with his hands. We bent over him, seeking to help and soothe him. The paroxysm passed and for a moment he seemed to sleep. Soon, however, he gave a strong shudder and opened his eyes again. "Pinsent—you will avenge me—you have the clue," he said. It was but a breath, but I heard. Yet I cannot say I comprehended. Indeed, I thought he wandered. But I answered softly: "Trust me, lad!" And at that he smiled and lay still, gazing up at me with eyes of deep affection.
"I have sent for her," I whispered.
"Yes," he sighed. "I know; but she will be too late. Tell her—not to fret!" and at the last word the light faded from his eyes and he was dead.
Long afterwards Miss Ottley came into the room. She was pale, but invincibly composed. I gave her his message and left her alone with the dead. The owner of the house, Lord Bill and the surgeon led me out into the garden. They spoke to me in decorous hushed voices for a while, then let me be. I walked up and down the pathway till break of day, and what I thought about I cannot tell. I remember being closely questioned by a policeman. Then Miss Ottley took my arm and we walked to the station. I thought it my place to be kind to her, yet she was kind to me.
"One might think you cared," she said, and smiled into my face. We got into a train and as soon as it started Lord Bill broke out crying. He declared that Weldon was the best fellow in the world and that he would miss him dreadfully. Then he said in the midst of life we are in death, and laughed, and without asking permission, he began to smoke a cigarette. It is strange how differently people are affected by emotion. I was mentally dazed, and I fancy part of my brain was benumbed. Miss Ottley was poignantly awake, but her pride, and her strength of mind served her for a mask. Lord Bill, on the other hand, acted as responsively to his feelings as an infant. And yet each of us behaved naturally. I reflected on these things all the way to town. Lord Bill bade us farewell at the station. Miss Ottley and I drove to her home in a hansom. During the drive she spoke about the funeral quite calmly and mentioned poor Weldon's love for big, red roses. His coffin should be smothered in roses, she declared.
When I helped her to the pavement, she pointed up at a window that was open. "Dr. Belleville's room," she said, and smiled. "He is enjoying his triumph. He kept his word to the letter. It is the seventh day. The seventh day, Hugh Pinsent; that is a terrible man. How shall I possibly withstand him?"
I shook my head. "You are wrong," I answered dully. "He is not responsible for this. It was an accident."