CHAPTER III.
AFTER SEVEN YEARS "What is the time, Leonard ?" "Eleven o'clock, Tom." "Eleven--already?
I shall go at dawn, Leonard.

You remember Johnston died at dawn, and so did Askew." "For heaven's sake don't speak like that, Tom! If you think you are going to die, you will die." The sick man laughed a ghost of a laugh--it was half a death-rattle.
"It is no use talking, Leonard; I feel my life flaring and sinking like a dying fire.

My mind is quite clear now, but I shall die at dawn for all that.

The fever has burnt me up! Have I been raving, Leonard ?" "A little, old fellow," answered Leonard.
"What about ?" "Home mostly, Tom." "Home! We have none, Leonard; it is sold.

How long have we been away now ?" "Seven years." "Seven years! Yes.