"I didn't kill him," whispered John. "I meant to do it; but he killed me. He was dragging me away because he thought me dead. But I had strength left—and he fell back. Then a gun fired and he died. I can't tell who shot him. Be you there, Miss Grace?"
"My arms are round you, dear John."
"He meant to wed you in the darkness. He told me so after I'd fetched the master. He told me all. Now Norcot's dead, for I saw him die. You're safe—quite safe."
Malherb and a physician were hanging over Lee, but his eyes had already grown dim and he did not perceive them. The medical man shook his head.
"Only a matter of minutes," he said. "'Tis wonderful that he's lived so long."
"John Lee," said Malherb. "You're dying, lad; you're going the road we all must go. But know that you were in time. My daughter is safe, as you say. All's out. You've done your duty, and, though the hand of God killed this man, 'twas you who were the instrument."
"You've died for us, John!" sobbed Grace. Her cheek sank down to his and she kissed him.
"A good way to die—some use—some use. 'Tis better'n I deserve—above my highest hopes. Yet often I dreamed I'd die for 'e. Mr. Stark?"
"I'm holding your hand, John."
"Love her—love her while your heart beats."