mug of coffee and came softly out again under the impression that his
father's patient was asleep; and when Wilton and Bourne came out they
heard this as the report of the stranger's state.

Breakfast time soon came, and the doctor joined them as before, ready to
answer the first question asked as to how his patient had passed the
night.

"For the most part talking."

"Then he is better?" cried Bourne.

"In a way--yes," replied the doctor solemnly, and every eye was fixed
upon him now, as Wilton said sharply--

"You mean that he is worse?"

"No: better for him, poor fellow," said the doctor sadly. "Nothing
whatever could be done, and he was in horrible pain. It is all over
now."

"You don't mean to say--" began Wilton, and stopped short.

"Dead?" said Bourne, in a solemn whisper.

"Yes," said the doctor gravely. "The agony he was in passed away about
dawn, leaving him calm, patient, and quite in his right senses, talking
to me long and earnestly for quite three hours, before he turned away
and with a low restful sigh went off to sleep--to wake no more."

"You say he talked to you a good deal," said Bourne; "did he say
anything about how he came to be in such a terrible state?"

"Yes, he related everything to me, clearly," replied the doctor gravely.

"Hah!" cried Wilton. "Poor fellow, he must have gone through a great
deal. How did it all come to pass?"

"Give me time," said the doctor thoughtfully. "I should like to lie
down and sleep for a few hours, for I have gone through a good deal
since you left us, Bourne. To-night we must lay him to rest.
Afterwards I have a great deal that is very startling to tell you both--
to tell you all, I should say, for the boys may hear."

CHAPTER FIVE.

A PIECE OF SKIN.

It was late that same evening when the occupants of the shanty sat about
the rough board table. The stranger had been laid in his last
resting-place, Mr Bourne had read the service over him, and the
American neighbour, who had been present, had stayed to partake of the
evening meal.

This latter had passed over almost in silence, all waiting then for the
communication the doctor was to make; but he sat still, thoughtful and
silent, till Griggs, after fidgeting a little in his chair, said--

"I can't help feeling a bit sorry, doctor, for bringing the poor fellow
over to you. I never meant him to stay."

"You need no excuses, Griggs," said the doctor, rousing himself from his
musi