He tried to do so, but fell back limply, moaning a bit.
“Why, my strength—my strength is gone! I don’t know why this is so! What has happened to me?”
“You fell downstairs.”
“Fell? How?”
“You were pursuing Jack Norton.”
“Ha! And I struck on my head when I fell. But that should not make me so weak. I can scarcely lift my hand. I’m afraid I’m going to die. Afraid? No! What do I care? I’d as lief croak now as any time. I ain’t got anything to live for.”
“Oh, yes, you have, dear uncle!” said the blind girl, as she came into the room and approached the bed.
“Dear uncle!” gasped old Joe. “Did she call me that?”
“She did,” nodded Frank. “Last night she cared for you.”
The old man seemed bewildered.