He caught it and wrung it with both of his own.
"I would that I could have saved thee," he said hoarsely, "and I wish thee to know that I now believe that thy tale is true. It seems strange, incredible, but thou art a gentleman, and I believe thee. 'The truth is often stranger than fiction.'"
I was pleased at this sign of his trust in me.
"I thank thee, Sir William," I said, "and say again that I spoke only the truth. Should we not meet each other again upon this earth, I hope we shall meet in another sphere."
"God grant it, Sir Thomas!" he cried. "It is but a few more short years for me now, and the time is still shorter with thee. Somewhere beyond this world we will meet again, that I feel sure of—until then, farewell!" and the old soldier opened the door and passed out, locking it behind him.
Throwing myself upon the bed, I closed my eyes, and only awoke when the gray light of the morning was streaming into the rough cell. A man brought my breakfast, coarse though bountiful, and after eating, I walked to the window and looked out. Only the narrow court-yard met my view. I could see nothing beyond it. To-morrow morning at this time I would be standing upon the scaffold, preparing to make the last long journey into the beyond. A little more and the journey would be over.
The door opened again.
"A gentleman to see thee, sir," said the man who waited upon me.
I turned eagerly, perhaps it was Bobby Vane, or—no, only the crafty features of my brother Richard met my view as he limped into the cell.
"Get out!" I cried angrily. "Quick! Or I will dash thee against the wall. Art deaf?" and I moved toward him.