“Where you failed, how am I to succeed?” she answered. “I won’t make that cruel promise.”
“If you don’t I’ll curse you,” replied the dying man, his glittering eyes looking full into hers. She shuddered and covered her face with her trembling hands.
“I think nothing at all of your squeamish womanly fears,” he said, with an awful sort of sneer. “Sit down by me—I have everything planned out—listen.”
CHAPTER III.
THE PACKET ON THE UPPER SHELF.
As Nancy seated herself on the edge of the bed, her face grew startlingly livid.
“You cannot surely mean what you are saying, father,” she replied.
“I mean,” said Dr. Follett in a steady and strong voice, “exactly what I say. I have failed to avenge your brother’s death; you must finish my work.”
“I am sorry,” said Nancy. “I am sorry at an hour like this to have to refuse you anything, but I cannot do what you ask.”
“I will not die until you promise,” replied the doctor. “For six years I have done all that man could do. I have not left a single stone unturned, I have not neglected the slightest clue, yet I have failed. The man who murdered Anthony has still to be found. If he walks this earth he shall be found. I die, but you must find him.”
“You forget that I am a girl,” said Nancy; “no girl could undertake work of this kind.”