He wished to cough, but with an effort he checked it, gasping once or twice.

"Saturday," he said, aloud.

"To-day is Wednesday--three days.

Can I wait ?" He paused; then as if answering another self, he said, "No; I could die a thousand deaths in that time.

I can't wait." Lot Gordon got up, moving by inches, with infinite care and pains, dressed himself, crawled out of his bedroom into his library, which was adjoining, and sat down at his desk.