Donovan Bulwrag looked at me. He was sensible still; though before the waning light upon his ghastly face should vanish, light and darkness would be one to him. He knew me, and I am grieved to say, for his own poor sake, that he hated me still. He had not heard of Kitty’s return, I suppose, having been so absorbed in his own affairs, and he muttered through the red foam that streaked his lying lips—for he had fired the ball through the roof of his mouth—
“How like—darling Kitty—run away—with officer?”
“She is with me. Her father found out your tricks, and sent her home. She is well and very happy. She ran away with no officer.”
“Let him alone, sir; don’t excite him,” said the surgeon who was stooping over him. “I must have you removed if you come near him.” Then with another turn of thought he said,—“If there has been ill-will between you, make it up; he cannot last half an hour. Will you take his hand if he wishes it?”
“With pleasure; but I know that he does not wish it. Do you wish me to take your hand, Mr. Bulwrag? If you do, look at me, and nod your head.”
To my amazement, the dying man turned his eyes on me, and nodded his head. His eyes were clouded with the approach of death, and I saw very little expression in them. Then he moved his left hand feebly towards me, while the other dropped, as if through exhaustion, to the ground. My right hand lay in his clammy palm, and bending forward, I watched his face for some token of good will and penitence.
Suddenly a red glare as of lightning filled his eyes, his features worked horribly, and his great teeth clashed as he tried to jerk me towards him. Luckily for me I was poised upon both feet. At the flash of his eyes I sprang aside, a redder flash blinded me, and a roar rang in my ears, and upon the bosom of the dying man lay the short thick curl, the love-lock Kitty was so fond of playing with. The ball had passed within an inch of my temple, and my forehead was black with the pistol-smoke.
“Narrow shave,” said the doctor, “that will be his last act. I hope he will have life enough to know that it has failed. I had not the least idea he had got that revolver under his coat-flap. What are the police about? It’s not my place to see to a thing of that sort. And he might have shot me while he was about it! There he goes! I thought so. Serve him right.”
The great head fell back, and the square chin dropped, a dull glaze spread upon the upturned eyes, a wan gray haze as of icy vapour crept across the relaxing face, and Donovan Bulwrag was gone to render an account of his doings in the flesh.