“In the sill of the house?”
His expression instantly changed to a very happy one, and yet he looked wonderstruck, which was natural enough.
“I saw you put it there,” said I. “But,” I continued, fearing the dying man might suspect me of spying, and so fear he had mistaken my character—“but I did not mean to——I was on the ground when you came there that evening; and when I saw what you were doing, I could not move for fear of disturbing you. I know where to find it, and I can swear you put it there.”
Markson closed his eyes, and never opened them again; and his last act, before going out of the world, was to give my hand a squeeze, which, under the circumstances, I could not help believing was an honest one.
As his hand relaxed, I felt that I had better give place to those who had a right to it, so I quietly retired. Helen fell on her knees by his bedside, but Mrs. Markson followed me out of the room.
“Mr. Raines,” said she, with a very pleasant smile for a woman widowed but a moment before, “what did my dear husband want?”
Now, I am an honest man and a Church-member—and I was one then, and believed in truth and straightforwardness just as much as I do now—but, somehow, when such a person speaks to me, I feel as if I were all of a sudden a velvet-pawed cat myself. So I answered, with the straightest of faces:
“Only to see to one of the sills of the house, ma’am, and he made me solemnly swear to do it right away. He was an extraordinary man, ma’am, to think of the good of his family up to the last moment.”
“Ah, yes, dear man!” said she, with a sigh which her face plainly showed came from nowhere deeper than her lips. “I hope it won’t take long, though,” she continued, “for I can’t endure noise in the house.”
“Not more than an hour,” I replied.