p the
world from knowing. Jerry-Jo was past hurting any one.

"The--lure got you, too?"

"Yes, the lure got me."

"I knew you that night in the dark--that night in the park--you ran from
me. I was lost and--and starving!"

"I came back, Jerry-Jo. I did indeed."

"Have I been here--long?"

"Not very. Do not talk any more. You must rest. There is to-morrow, you
know."

The poor fellow was too weak to laugh, but the long teeth showed for a
moment.

"I must talk. Listen! Do they know here--about me? know my name?"

"No."

"Don't tell them. Don't tell any one. I have done something for you!
They think, back there in Kenmore, that you are with me. I've written
that--and schoolmaster hasn't let on. I haven't gone to the Hornbys here,
because I stood by you. No one must know. See?"

"Yes, Jerry-Jo, I see. Please lie still now. It shall be as you wish. You
have been--very good--for my sake!"

"I've starved and slept in dark holes--for you, and now you and him--have
got to take care of me--or--I'll tell! I'll tell, as sure as God hears
me!"

"We will take care of you, Jerry-Jo. There! there! I promise; and you
know we of the In-Place stand by each other."

He was comforted at last, and fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion.
Occasionally, in the days following, he opened his tired eyes and gave
evidence of consciousness. He was drifting out calmly and painlessly,
and all the coarseness and degeneracy of the half-breed seemed dropping
by the way. Sometimes his glance rested on Doctor Travers's face, for
the young physician was deeply interested in the case and was touched by
the lonely, unclaimed fellow who had served science, but could derive no
benefit in return. Often Jerry-Jo's dark eyes fell upon the pitying face
of Priscilla Glenn with ever-growing understanding and kindliness.
Sometimes in the long nights he clung to her like a child, for she was
very good to him; very, very devoted.

One night, when all the world seemed sleeping, he whispered to her:

"You--you don't know, really?"

Priscilla thought he was wandering, and said gently:

"No, Jerry-Jo, really I do not know."

"What will you give me--if I tell you the biggest secret in the world?"

She had his head in the hollow of her arm; he was resting more calmly so.
He had been feverish all day.

"What--can I give you, Jerry-Jo?"

The old, pleading look was in the dark eyes, but low passion had vanished
forever.

"Could you--would you give