e as his eyes followed those of the invalid.

"What is it you see, Boone?"

"There, there!" he whispered hoarsely, clutching Gorman's arm as if for
protection, "look, I heard his voice just now; oh! save me from that
man; he--he--wants to kill me!"

"Come, David," said Gorman soothingly, "it's only a fancy--there's
nobody there--nobody in the room but me."

"And who are you?" inquired the sick man, falling back exhausted, while
he gazed vacantly at his friend.

"Don't you know me, David?"

"Never mind, shut your eyes now and try to sleep. It'll be time to take
your physic soon."

"Physic!" cried Boone, starting up in alarm, and again clutching
Gorman's arm. "You won't let _him_ give it me, will you? Oh! say you
won't--promise to give it me yourself!"

Gorman promised, and a very slight but peculiar smile turned up the
corners of his mouth as he did so.

Boone again sank back on his pillow, and Gorman sat down on a chair
beside him. His villainous features worked convulsively, for in his
heart he was meditating a terrible deed. That morning he had been
visited by Ned Hooper, who in the most drunken of voices told him, "that
it wash 'mposh'ble to git a body f'r love or munny, so if 'e wanted one
he'd better cut's own throat."

His plans having miscarried in this matter, Gorman now meditated taking
another and more decided step. He looked at the sick man, and, seeing
how feeble he was, his fingers twitched as if with a desire to strangle
him. So strong was the feeling upon him that he passed his fingers
nervously about his own throat, as if to ascertain the formation of it
and the precise locality of the windpipe. Then his hand dropped to his
side, and he sat still again, while Boone rolled his poor head from side
to side and moaned softly.

Evening drew on apace, and the shadows in the sick-room gradually became
deeper and deeper until nothing could be seen distinctly. Still Gorman
sat there, with his features pale as death, and his fingers moving
nervously; and still the sick man lay and rolled his head from side to
side on the pillow. Once or twice Gorman rose abruptly, but he as often
sat down again without doing anything.

Suddenly a ray of bright light shot through the window. Gorman started
and drew back in alarm. It was only a lamp-lighter who had lighted one
of the street-lamps, and the ray which he had thus sent into the
sick-chamber passed over the bed. It did not disturb Boone, for t