My God!--was there ever anything more disgraceful!" He paused for a moment, his eyes still on the sufferer, and then went on--this time to the doctor--"His living so long gives me some hope--am I right, Teackle ?" The doctor nodded, but he made no audible reply.

He had bent closer to the man's chest and was at the moment listening intently to the labored breathing, which seemed to have increased.
Harry edged nearer to the patient, his eyes seeking for some move of life.

All his anger had faded.

Willits, his face ablaze with drink and rage, his eyes flashing, his strident voice ringing out--even Kate's shocked, dazed face, no longer filled his mind.

It was the suffering man--trembling on the verge of eternity, shot to death by his own ball--that appealed to him.