The doctor hastily mixed something in a glass and held it to the dying man's lips. The small quantity Zolverein was able to swallow seemed to bring a bit of brightness to his dimming eyes.
"There," he whispered, "that will do it."
The doctor straightened up, but not till he had breathed in Frank's ear:
"If there is anything you wish to hear from him, make haste. He has not many seconds more."
"Young man," said the dying magician, "you did me a turn to-day—you saved me from being mangled beneath the train. It would have made but a few hours' difference, but I prefer to die here in bed. You grabbed me and held me up at the risk of being drawn down yourself. It—was—a—brave—act."
He stopped, gasping painfully.
"If you have anything in particular to say, do not talk of other things now," warned the doctor.
"All right," murmured the magician. "I understand what you mean. The end is near. I'm ready to go."
Again he looked at Frank.
"I like you," he declared. "I took a liking to you on the train. That's why I send for you. I have not a relative in the whole world that I care for. I have some friends, but they are far away. You are here. You befriended me—a stranger. My apparatus for performing my feats of magic is worth several thousand dollars. Here and now I express my desire that you shall have it when I am dead. If you sell it for what it is worth, it will—bring you in—a tidy—sum—of——"