The gimcracks he loved to make were all for the public rooms below.
The head of the bed was toward the door.

On the pillow Ambrose could see the gray head, a little bald on the crown.
Giddings, after feeling his patient's pulse, sat down beside the bed with pad and pencil.
"I'm ready to take down what you say," he said.
The wounded man said in a weak but surprisingly clear voice: "You understand this is not to be used unless the worst happens to me." Giddings nodded.
"You must give me your word that no proceedings will be taken against the man I name--unless I die.

I will not die.

When I get up I will attend to him." "I promise," said Giddings.
After a brief pause Gaviller said: "I was shot by the breed known as Sandy Selkirk." Ambrose sharply caught his breath.

A great light broke upon him.
Gaviller went on: "He caught a black fox last winter that he has persistently refused to give up to me.