_His Victim's Trouble_ Yet he could not help pondering on the words of old Harding.

Bill Gregg had been a strange patient.

He had never repeated his first offer to tell his story.

He remained sullen and silent, with his brooding eyes fixed on the blank wall before him, and nothing could permanently cheer him.

Some inward gloom seemed to possess the man.
The first day after the shooting he had insisted on scrawling a painfully written letter, while Ronicky propped a writing board in front of him, as he lay flat on his back in the bed, but that was his only act.