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 now. John knows. Now go. I am tired. No—wait! Did he save the man's life?"

"Yes; the man is safe and free in Thibet."

"That was nobly done. Now go. You have always been kind to me, and you love him. When you see me again I shall be gone." Her voice was perceptibly weaker, though still clearly audible. "When I am gone, put some flowers on me for friendship's sake. You have been always so kind. Good-bye, dear Mr. Griggs. Good-bye. God keep you." I moved quickly to the door, fearing lest the piteous sight should make a coward of me. It was so ineffably pathetic—this lovely creature, just tasting of the cup of life and love and dying so.

"Bring him here at once, Griggs, please. I know all about it. It may save her." John Westonhaugh clasped my hand in his again, and pushed me out to speed me on my errand. I tore along the crooked paths and the winding road, up through the bazaar, past the church and the narrow causeway beyond to the hotel. I found him still smoking and reading the paper.

"Well?" said he cheerfully, for the morning sun had dispelled the doubts of the night.

"My dear friend," I said, "Miss Westonhaugh wants to see you immediately."

"How? What? Of course; I will go at once, but how did you know?"

"Wait a minute, Isaacs; she is not well at all—in fact, she is quite ill."