spent the night. He brought the gold that you saw on the floor which
he had honestly made to give to his old mother--but for a devilish
purpose. He showed it to her last night to rouse her avarice and make
her first agree to hide his stolen goods. He succeeded too well. Before
he had revealed himself she slipped into the room at daylight while he
slept in a drunken stupor, murdered him and took the money. The struggle
waked me and I rushed in. She gripped her knife to kill me. I told her
that she had murdered her own son and she went mad----"

She paused for breath and her lips trembled piteously.

"You know what to do, Doctor?"

"Yes!"

"And you'll help me?"

He smiled tenderly and nodded his head.

"God knows you need it, child!"

The nerves snapped at last, and she sank a limp heap at his feet.

CHAPTER XXIV. THE CALL DIVINE

The Doctor threw off his coat and took charge of the stricken house. He
sent his waiting messenger for a faithful nurse, a mountain woman whom
he had trained, and began the fight for Mary's life. The collapse into
which she had fallen would require weeks of patient care. There was no
immediate danger of death, and while he awaited the arrival of help, he
turned into the living-room to examine the body of the slain husband.

The head had fallen backward over the side of the lounge and a pool of
blood, still warm and red, lay on the floor in a widening circle beneath
it. His quick eye took in its significance at a glance. He sprang
forward, ripped the shirt wide open and applied his ear to the breast.

"He's still alive!" he cried excitedly.

He examined the ugly wound in the left side and found that the knife
had penetrated the lung. The heart had not been touched. The blow on the
neck had not been fatal. The shock of the final stroke had merely choked
the wounded man into collapse from the hemorrhage of the left lung. The
position into which the body had fallen across the couch had gradually
cleared the accumulated blood. There was a chance to save his life.

In ten minutes he had applied stimulants and restored respiration,
but the deep wheeze from the stricken lung told only too plainly the
dangerous character of the wound. It would be a bitter fight. His
enormous vitality might win. The chances were against him.

Jim's lips moved and he tried to speak.

The Doctor placed his hand on his mouth and shook his head. The drooping
eyelids closed in grateful obedience.

The