"You won't betray him. She hesitated. You see, my riddle is solved. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. "I must have dropped it when I took out my note-book. But for now, I’d like to turn in, if you don’t mind. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. He waved to her. Her shoulders began to ache. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. "Now, Mr.
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