“Why, I’m out of a job again,” replied Doctor Gaylord, gravely.
“Great Goodness! The man ain’t dead, is he?” demanded my uncle.
“He is, sir.”
I do not know why I had such a sudden sinking of the heart as I heard this. Perhaps the noble young Chinaman had won from me more admiration and affection than I had suspected, during the brief time I had known him.
I glanced at Joe and Archie, and they were looking mighty solemn.
“Wasn’t it rather sudden, Doc?” inquired Uncle Naboth, after a pause, during which he stirred his tea energetically.
“Yes, he might have lived another four-and-twenty hours. But he wore out the morphine and began to suffer terribly. So I killed him.”
“What!”
“Gave him an overdose of morphine, at his own request, and he went to his long sleep with a smile of gratitude upon his face.”
There was another pause.