There was no hope, he said; and if he had not been found by the peasants he would have been dead now.

Roland must ask if he was a good Catholic or a heretic.

When the monk heard that he was a heretic and needed none of the consolations of the Church, he bade him farewell kindly, and went his way.
Roland Sefton sat beside the dying man all the night, while he lingered from hour to hour: free from pain at times, at others restless and racked with agony.

He wandered a little in delirium, and when his brain was clear he had not much to say.
"Have you no message to send to your friends ?" inquired Roland, in one of these lucid intervals.
"I have no friends," he answered, "and no money.

It makes death easier." "There must be some one who would care to hear of you," said Roland.
"They'll see it in the papers," he replied.