"He prayed that you might return before he died.

It seems that he felt he had treated you meanly and he wanted to tell you that he had repented." A cynical wonder filled Calumet, and he laughed--a short, raucous staccato.
"How do you know ?" he questioned.
"He told me." Calumet considered her for a moment in silence and then his attention was directed to her grandfather, who had got to his feet and was walking unsteadily toward the dining-room door.

He was a well-preserved man, appearing to be about sixty.

That Calumet's attack had been a vicious one was apparent, for as the man reached the door he staggered and leaned weakly against the jambs.

He made a grimace at Calumet and smiled weakly at the girl.
"I'm pretty well knocked out, Betty," he said.