I dare say he will have something to tell me." "If it should be anything as requires a witness," continued the man--"he's said a deal already, and it's all down in proper form--but if there's anything more----" "I will let you know," said Charles, looking towards the door, and the warden took the hint and went out of it, closing it quietly.
Charles crossed the little room, and, sitting down in the crazy chair beside the bed, laid his hand gently on the listless hand lying palm upward on the rough gray counterpane.
"Raymond," he said; "it is I, Danvers." The hand trembled a little, and made a faint attempt to clasp his.
Charles took the cold, lifeless hand, and held it in his strong gentle grasp.
"It is Danvers," he said again.
The sick man turned his head slowly on the pillow, and looked fixedly at him.

Death's own color, which imitation can never imitate, nor ignorance mistake, was stamped upon that rigid face.
"I'm done for," he said with a faint smile, which touched the lips but did not reach the solemn far-reaching eyes.
Charles could not speak.
"You said I should turn up tails once too often," continued Raymond, with slow halting utterance, "and I've done it.

I knew it was all up when I pitched over that d----d wall onto the stones.

I felt I'd killed myself." "How did they get you ?" said Charles.
"I don't know," replied Raymond, closing his eyes wearily, as if the subject had ceased to interest him.

"I think I tried to creep along under the wall towards the place where it is broken down, when I fancy some one came over long after the others and knocked me on the head." Charles reflected with sudden wrath that Brooks, no doubt, had been the man, and how much worse than useless his manoeuvre with the stick had been.
"I did my best," he said, humbly.
"Yes," replied the other; "and I would not have forgotten it, either, if--if there had been any time to remember it in; but there won't be.
I've owned up," he continued, in a labored whisper.