He resolved to feather his nest
immediately, and interviewed the surgeon. The surgeon was ominously
reticent, the nurse cheerfully ghoulish.

"Four days I give him," she said, calmly; "four blessed days, not but
what he might slip away at any moment."

Gunn let one day of the four pass, and then, choosing a time when Joan
was from the room, entered it for a little quiet conversation. The
innkeeper's eyes were open, and, what was more to the purpose,
intelligent.

"You're cheating the hangman, after all," snarled Gunn. "I'm off to
swear an information."

The other, by a great effort, turned his heavy head and fixed his wistful
eyes on him.

"Mercy!" he whispered. "For her sake--give me--a little time!"

"To slip your cable, I suppose," quoth Gunn. "Where's your money?
Where's your hoard, you miser?"

Mullet closed his eyes. He opened them again slowly and strove to think,
while Gunn watched him narrowly. When he spoke, his utterance was thick
and labored.

"Come to-night," he muttered, slowly. "Give me--time--I will make your
--your fortune. But the nurse-watches."

"I'll see to her," said Gunn, with a grin. "But tell me now, lest you
die first."

"You will--let Joan--have a share?" panted the innkeeper.

"Yes, yes," said Gunn, hastily.

The innkeeper strove to raise himself in the bed, and then fell back
again exhausted as Joan's step was heard on the stairs. Gunn gave
a savage glance of warning at him, and barring the progress of the girl
at the door, attempted to salute her. Joan came in pale and trembling,
and falling on her knees by the bedside, took her father's hand in hers
and wept over it. The innkeeper gave a faint groan and a shiver ran
through his body.

It was nearly an hour after midnight that Nick Gunn, kicking off his
shoes, went stealthily out onto the landing. A little light came from
the partly open door of the sick-room, but all else was in blackness. He
moved along and peered in.

The nurse was siting in a high-backed oak chair by the fire. She had
slipped down in the seat, and her untidy head hung on her bosom. A glass
stood on the small oak table by her side, and a solitary candle on the
high mantel-piece diffused a sickly light. Gunn entered the room, and
finding that the sick man was dozing, shook him roughly.

The innkeeper opened his eyes and gazed at him blankly.

"Wake, you fool," said Gunn, shaking him again.

The other roused and muttered somethin