He was very pale, and had dark blotches under his eyes, but otherwise he was as he had ever been, with the keen, hungry nose, the wiry moustache, and the close-cropped head thinning away to baldness upon the top.

His eyelids had always drooped, but now one could hardly see the glint of his eyes from beneath them.
"Hola, Jock!" he cried.

"I didn't thought to have seen you here, and yet I might have known it, too, when I saw friend Jim." "It is you that has brought all this trouble," said I.
"Ta, ta, ta!" he cried, in his old impatient fashion.

"It is all arranged for us.

When I was in Spain I learned to believe in Fate.
It is Fate which has sent you here this morning." "This man's blood lies at your door," said I, with my hand on poor Jim's shoulder.
"And mine on his, so we have paid our debts." He flung open his mantle as he spoke, and I saw with horror that a great black lump of clotted blood was hanging out of his side.
"This is my thirteenth and last," said he, with a smile.