"No, Richard," he said gently, "he is almost gone."
The dying man opened his eyes.
"Dick,—" his voice was very faint.
"Yes, Victor."
"—take care of m—"
Then, as if some sudden thought or recollection had come to him, he struggled again to rise, whispering wildly,
"The will!... Richard! the will! Don't let—"
His head dropped back against the crimson letters. That which it was in his heart to say would be forever unsaid.