"Hush! don't talk now," said Jessie. "The doctor will be here in a little while, and give you something to revive you."
"The doctor? The----Ah! everything comes back to me now. It was you who opened my dungeon and helped me, bit by bit, to crawl here. What good angel sent you to me, Jessie?"
Then, before she could answer, he began to mutter to himself in German, a language which he very rarely spoke, and evidently knew her no longer.
At this moment there came a sound of loud knocking at the front door. At the noise Van Duren again turned his eyes on Jessie.
He looked at her as he had never looked at her before: with a pathos and tenderness indescribable. But he did not speak.
Jessie's quick ears had heard her father open the door in answer to the knocking, and now there was a sound of footsteps coming down the stone stairs that led to the kitchen. Next minute the door was pushed open, and three men came into the room. One of them was Peter Byrne, and the other two were members of the police force in plain clothes. Byrne was startled at the sight before him, but he did not lose his presence of mind.
"There, gentlemen, is the man you are in search of. This is Max Van Duren, formerly known by the name of Max Jacoby."
One of the officers advanced. "Max Jacoby, you are charged with being the murderer of one Paul Stilling, at Tewkesbury, many years ago, and I hold a warrant for your arrest."
"A warrant for my arrest!" echoed Van Duren feebly. "You have come too late, gentlemen--too late, I say! I am beyond your reach now. I am going where you dare not follow me!"
His eyes closed once more; he breathed three or four times, and then not again.