"Oh, why—why——?" he cried. "Why did you come to this?"
"Hold me and I will tell you."
He knelt by her side, taking her head again upon his shoulder while she clutched at his hand.
"My strength is going—more rum—quick."
He held the bottle to her mouth in silence, loving, loathing, pitying, and condemning.
"Now. Don't stop me. Don't interrupt—only listen."
She lay still for a few minutes, gathering the last of her energy. Presently she began.
"Dad, O'Guire that is, was driven to stealing. Mother too. All the other little ones died but me. Dad trained me. Write to the police in London and ask about Nora O'Guire—there are lots of other names, but they know me under all as Nora O'Guire. Then mother died. She made me swear not to rest till we had revenged her on Dudgeon. We came out, Dad and I, came out to find him. I bluffed the bank."
"But the deeds you had with you—were they forgeries?"
"No. I stole them. From a solicitor's office in Dublin—he probably does not know they are missing. Write to him."