una and fetch Mr. Bayne out here? I do not mean to leave
Clarkson myself at present."

Another volunteer was found, and the doctor, having scribbled a pencil
note to Mr. Bayne, sent him off with it and went back into the house.
There was already a change in his patient. An indefinable look had come
over the hard, sunburnt face, and the voice was weaker. Why the doctor
had sent for Mr. Bayne, whom for the moment he regarded not as a
clergyman, but as a magistrate, he himself best knew. Clarkson had no
idea of his having done so; nor had he yet heard plainly that his own
fate was so certain or so near. But it was no part of the doctor's plan
to leave him in ignorance. He went to the side of the settee where the
dying man lay, and sitting down said,

"I have sent for your wife."

Clarkson looked at him suspiciously.

"What's that for?" he asked. "Can't they take me home? I should get well
a deal sooner there than in this place."

"You cannot be moved. In fact, Clarkson, there is no chance of your
getting well anywhere."

Clarkson turned his head sharply.

"Say out what you mean," he cried with an oath.

"I intend to do so. You are not likely to live till night."

The wretched man tried to raise himself, but his will had no power over
his body. He turned his head round with a groan, and hid his face
against the wall.

There were other people in the house; but since Clarkson had been
brought in, they kept as much as possible at the further end, and could
not hear what passed unless it was intended that they should. Presently
Clarkson again looked round, and there was a new expression of terror
and anxiety in his eyes.

"Are you _sure_?" he asked. "Quite certain I can't get well?"

"Quite certain. There is not the shadow of a chance."

"Look here, then; I have something to say."

"It had better be said soon."

"I say, Doctor, is that Indian fellow really going to die?"

"What Indian fellow?"

"The one in jail--the one that they say killed Doctor Morton."

"He is very ill. Why do you say that they _say_ he killed Doctor
Morton?"

"Because he did not do it, and I know who did."

"Is that what you have to tell?"

"I'd have let him hang, mind; I'd never have told a word. But it's to be
me after all!" He stopped and groaned again heavily.

"Look here, Doctor," he went on, "you'll just remember this, will you?
My missus knows nothing about it--not a word; and don't let them go and
bother her about it af