Hammersley determined to try him, for a plan had been forming in his mind. He had noticed with a glance which had included everything in the room when he entered, a Bible upon the mantelshelf, and in a tone which had in it a solemn sense of the doom which awaited him in the morning, he addressed his guardian quietly:
“Senf, you have a kind face. There is a small favor that you may do me.”
“If it does not conflict with my orders.”
“Not at all. Tomorrow morning I am to be shot. All I ask is that you will allow me to read for a while the Bible upon the chimneypiece.”
“Ach! I see no harm in that.”
He went over and got the book, opening the pages and looking through them.
“It is little enough for a dying man to ask,” he said.
“Danke,” said Hammersley quietly, his face solemn but his mind working rapidly. “It is but right to make one’s peace with the world at a time like this.”
“I am sorry, mein Herr,” said the man mournfully. “It is not good for a man to die in the first flush of youth.”