It was a hard promise to give, but she gave it. Without his permission, what she had learned should never be revealed.
"The poor lad wasn't to blame," the sick man said. "It was drink did it. Drink always made Larry crazy. When he got home that night, he didn't know what he'd been doing; but in the morning Mary found the money on him, and the stain of blood on his hand. I tried to throw the money away, and they saw me."
He paused, gasping for breath. He was making an effort beyond his strength.
"Tell me the rest to-morrow," Mrs. Raynor said, giving him a spoonful of cordial.
But he went on excitedly, clutching at the bed-clothes as he spoke. "It would have been the ruin of Larry if he had come here. He would never again have looked anybody in the face. Besides, Mary's heart was broke entirely. So when I was caught, I just bid Larry hold his peace. But I didn't tell any lie, ma'am. When they asked me in court if I was guilty or not guilty, I said 'not guilty;' and it was true."
She gave him the cordial again, wiped his forehead, and, noticing that his hands were cold, first lifted the blanket to cover them, then hesitated, looked at him more closely, finally laid it back.
He lay for a while silent and exhausted, then spoke again. "You promise?"
"I promise, Dougherty. Set your heart at rest. You are dying; did you know it?"
"Yes, ma'am!"