Page:Under three flags; a story of mystery (IA underthreeflagss00tayliala).pdf/315

 "Fool! I cautioned him to keep out of range," he exclaims, as he bends over the old man.

"Is he badly hurt?" asks the voice of Louise.

"I fear so. We must retreat upstairs, as we may expect an assault at any instant. Quick!"

As Louise ascends to the floor above, Van Zandt follows with his unconscious burden. In the rear room is a sofa, and upon this Mr. Felton is laid.

"I have but a few minutes to live. Forgive me," he gasps.

"God may forgive you," replies Van Zandt, turning bitterly away. Louise takes his hand in hers.

"Surely, Mr. Van Zandt, you can forgive the past in this awful moment," she says, softly. "Remember, he was a father and he loved his son."

At the contact of that little hand Van Zandt feels a thrill creep over him.

"You know now who I am," he says, dully. The blue eyes meet the dark ones unwaveringly.

"I know that I believe in your innocence and that I trust you," is the quiet response. "Listen, he is speaking again." They bend their heads to catch the sinking man's last words.

"In my—coat—papers," gasps Mr. Felton, with his fast-glazing eyes fixed on Van Zandt. "They—will—clear—your—name," he finishes and sinks back, exhausted by his effort.

"Cyrus Felton," says Van Zandt, gravely, "if any forgiveness of mine will afford you an iota of comfort on your journey to the other world, it is yours."

The dying man acknowledges the absolution with a glance. An instant later his spirit passes to his Maker, to be judged by his deeds in this world of sorrow and sin, of hope and happiness.

Again the Cafe de Almendras. The boisterous troopers are gone and in their place a dozen or so quiet