Time after that passed on laggard feet with Varick. Midnight had struck, and under the coverlid the small figure of Mr. Mapleson lay very still. Since that moment when he'd lived over once more his life in prison he had not spoken. Varick had remained with him. After Jessup went he stood beside the bed, looking down at the little man who lay upon it. The small, peaked face looked somehow peaceful. It seemed as if Mr. Mapleson had already suffered himself to rest.
"He's going very fast," said the young nurse quietly. "He must have been wasting away a long while now."
Varick did not respond. A quick change, as fleeting as the blur of breath on a mirror, had crept all at once into Mr. Mapleson's expression. He strove as if to raise his head. Then Varick saw his lips faintly flutter. He bent over him. Manifestly the little man had something to say.
"What is it, Mr. Mapleson?" he asked.
The sick man's eyes still lay closed, but again the lips fluttered. His face was rapt.
"Spell cat—c-a-t," said Mr. Mapleson; and then: "Diamonds and pearls, Babbie! If you're going to be a lady Mr. Mapy must teach you to spell!" He smiled weakly.
The nurse looked at Varick inquiringly. Varick laid a finger on his lips.
"Oh, see the ox!" continued Mr. Mapleson. "Do you see the ox?"
Just then the door opened and Varick's heart leaped, filled in an instant to brimming with a passionate thankfulness and relief. Bab stood there. One instant she gazed at the picture before her. The next she was on her knees beside the bed. Varick signaled silently to the nurse to follow him into the hall.
It was daylight when the lamp burned out. As the pink dawn of that bright June morning came lifting over the city roofs John Mapleson's soul was led from its cell, and for his crimes and misdemeanors was arraigned before that higher court—the final judgment seat. No need for him to plead "Guilty, my Lord!" for his crimes and misdemeanors were already known. And who can doubt that it was a lenient Judge he faced.