"I thought as much. The scoundrel! Now I can die happy. Give me some more whiskey."
Ellison thrust the pearl back into the safe, and then gave Murkard another drink of the spirit. It put fresh life into him for the moment.
"Ellison," he said, taking his friend's hand, "you've been a true friend to me."
"I have not been half as true a friend as you have been to me. My God, Murkard, is there nothing I can do for you until the doctor comes? I cannot let you die like this!"
"It's hopeless, old man. I can feel it. Let us talk while we have the chance. I want to tell you about that money. You see my family sent it to me, myself. They don't know you in the matter at all. I deceived you there. If you would like to pay it back and start afresh send it to them from me. Tell them, too,"—he paused,—"tell them, too,—that I died—doing my duty. Do you understand? It will surprise them, but I should like them to know it."
"They shall know that you died like a hero, giving your life for mine."
"Don't pile on the agony, old fellow. They'd not believe it; we're by nature a sceptical race. I don't want the matter turned to ridicule."
"Is there nothing I can do to make you easier?"
"Nothing, old man, except to give me more liquor. Thank you. I'm getting weaker every minute. I wonder what they'll do to that fellow Merton?"
"Hang him if I can do anything to forward it."