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22 softly in gasps. I should not have been surprised to have seen him drawing his last breath at any moment.

The woman stood looking at him appealingly until she caught his eye; then she covered her face with her handkerchief, pretending to be overcome by emotion. A moment later she turned aside to Victor and hissed, "Oh, is it too late? If I only knew some torture that would wring from him that secret which would bring us millions."

Then, controlling herself, she went on more calmly: "Sit down, Miss Wood, and take the dictation."

I saw Victor looking at me and had the presence of mind to remain perfectly quiet, without noticing what she said, for, indeed, I had now begun to feel that I was among desperate people, and that it would be best for my well-being to carry out my role as I had begun it. Apparently satisfied that I was as unfortunate as I claimed to be, she signified by motions that I was to seat myself and write as soon as her brother should dictate.

I did so, but while Victor had been occupied in arranging my utensils and Mrs. Westinghouse was absorbed in her pretended emotions the man on the bed had turned his eyes and looked straight into mine. The effect was tremendous. I felt calmed. There was almost an understanding between us. At least, there was sympathy.

As I seated myself and caught up my pencil, he raised his white hands and began to sign to me:—

Show no fright at whatever I say. Pretend to take notes, or you will betray yourself."

Acting on his suggestion, I began tracing disjointed sentences upon the paper.

Then, after allowing me a few moments to recover from the effects of this startling communication, he went on:—

This is no place for you. These people are desperate characters, and if they suspected what I am saying might injure you."

Again a pause, during which I shaded my face with one hand and scrawled senseless marks over the paper with the other. Beneath my lowered lids I could see that two pair of eyes, one bloodshot and the other steely gray, were watching me from a