in fact, sir. I've heard
him pleading with her,--yes, and cursing her, too,--and her voice is always
full of horror when she says 'No, no! I will not do it! I cannot!' You
see, sir, I always stand here by the door, waiting to be called, so I
catch snatches of conversation when their voices are raised. Besides,
she's always as white as a sheet when she comes out, and two or three
times she has actually run to her room as if she was afraid he was
pursuing her. I can't help feeling, Mr. Braden, that he considers her a
member of the family, and so long as I won't do it, he--"

"Good God, Wade! Don't say anything more! I--" His knees suddenly seemed
about to give way under him. He went on in a hoarse whisper: "Why, I--I am
a member of the family. You don't suppose he'll--you don't suppose--"

"I just thought I'd tell you, sir," broke in Wade, "so's you might be
prepared. Will you go in now, sir? He is most eager to see you."

Braden entered the room, sick with horror. A member of the family! A
member of the family to do the killing!

He was shocked by the appearance of the sick old man. Templeton Thorpe had
wasted to a thin, greyish shadow. His lips were as white as his cheek, and
that was the colour of chalk. Only his eyes were bright and gleaming with
the life that remained to him. The grip of his hand was strong and firm,
and his voice, too, was steady.

"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr. Thorpe, some time
after the greetings. He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a
little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential tone.
His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth,--for even
at his age Templeton Thorpe was not a toothless thing. They were alone in
the room. The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a short respite.

"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden. "You should have sent
for me long ago."

"That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten
minutes," said Mr. Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
"Don't say it again. By the way, suppose that I had sent for you: what
could you have done? What good could you have done? Answer me that."

"There is no telling, sir. At least, I could have done my share of
the--that is to say, I might have been useful in a great many ways. You may
be sure, sir, that I should have been in constant attendance. I should
have been on hand night and day."

"You would have ass