"Then you heard the news ?" he said, quickly.
Josephine turned her white face to the doctor's.

"What news ?" she asked, in a voice that seemed strangely deep and resonant.
"The poor fellow had another attack last night, and died of exhaustion about an hour ago.

I was too late to save him." "Did he say anything?
Was he conscious ?" asked the girl, hoarsely.
"No; incoherent! Now I think of it, he harped on the same string as he did the night of the operation.

What was it he said?
you remember." "'You'll have to kill me first,'" repeated Josephine, in a choking voice.
"Yes; something about his dying before he'd tell.

Well, he came back to it before he went off--they often do.