"Tell me, for heaven's sake, what you have done?" I cried.
"You shall know all," he gasped, with pauses between his words. "First, though ... about Emilius . . . you went to seek him, did you not? . . . He was to be here to-morrow ..."
"He is here now," I said, "in this house. It was to recover his daughter that he came to England."
"Do not leave me.... When I went to bed to-night ... and kissed my angel wife ... for the last time ... I thought never to wake again.... It is painless.... In my old wanderings I came across a man we talked of death ... how easy ... I kept it by me ... through all these years.... It will defy you, doctor ... no trace remains ... the subtlest poison, the easiest death.... It has served me well. Go quickly, and bring Emilius.... Not my angel wife.... There is no pain.... Thank God, my life is ended! Go ... Emilius!"
I flew from the room, and returned with Emilius. Gabriel Carew lay back in his chair, motionless. The terror of death was not in his face. But he was dead!
* * * * *
It was popularly supposed that he died from heart disease. There were in him no indications of having died from other than natural causes. What I knew I kept to myself. Not alone what I gathered from his own lips as to the manner of his death, but of the last incident of his dream-life, and of my providentially saving him from the commission of an awful crime.
* * * * *
A great number of mourners stood about his grave. Until that time, it was not known how wide and large had been his charities. Even his wife had been in ignorance of countless deeds of goodness which he had done in secret. There were men and women there whom he had snatched from poverty and despair, and who now brought flowers to drop into the last resting place of their benefactor. Children, too, were lifted up to look into the grave of the master of Rosemullion.
Emilius stood bareheaded by my side.