Edward Percy is dying—was dying when they lifted him from the drawing-room carpet, and gently laid him on the couch hastily prepared by Hagar and the frightened servants. They have watched beside him through the night, and now, in the gray of the morning, Clarence Vaughan still keeps his vigil.

The wounded man moves feebly, and turns his fast dimming eyes toward the watcher. "I thought—I saw—some one," he says, brokenly, "when—I fell. Who—was—the lady?"

His voice dies away, as Clarence, bending over him, answers gently: "You mean the lady that stood near the door, whose face was turned away?"

"Yes," in a whisper; "was it—my—wife?"

Clarence turns toward the window where Mrs. Ralston sits, out of view of the sick man.

She moves forward a little. "Tell him," she says, in a low voice.

Edward Percy is a dying man, but his mind was never clearer. He perfectly comprehends the explanations made by Clarence. He had recognized the face of his wife when he lay bleeding at her feet. He closes his eyes and is silent for some moments. Then he asks, in that dying half-whisper, the only tone he ever will use: "You think—I—will—die?"

"You cannot live," replies Clarence, gravely.

Again the wounded man shuts his eyes and thinks; then: "How long—will I—last?" he questions.

"I can keep you alive twenty-four hours—not longer," says Clarence, after a pause.

"Then—I must talk now."

Clarence goes to a table, and pours something into a tiny glass. This he brings, and putting it to the lips of the patient, says: "Try and swallow this. It is a stimulant. Then lie quiet for a few moments; after that you may talk."

This is done, and for a time there is silence in the room. Then the wounded man whispers, with an appearance of more strength: "Tell her—to come here."

Mrs. Ralston moves forward, and he looks at her long and attentively. Then, with a turn of his olden coolness: "You grew tired of me," he said.

"Yes," she replies, in a low, sad voice, "I grew tired of you; very tired. But don't talk of those days now. You are too near the end; think of that!"

"I do," he said, slowly. "But I can't alter the past—and—I don't know—about the future. I want—to see a—notary."

"Don't you want to see a clergyman?"

"What for? If I am dying—it's of no use to play—hypocrite. I don't believe in—your clergyman. I admit that—I wronged—you," he continues, gazing at Mrs. Ralston, "and I deceived Miss Keith. If you two—can forgive me—I will take my chances—for the rest."

Mrs. Ralston bends above him with a face full of pity, but in which there is no love. "I forgive you, Edward; and so will Claire, fully. But you did her very little harm. She was not long deceived. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes; and—don't let Alice—Cora, you call her—come near me."

Truly, this dying sinner is not a meek one, not a very repentant one.

When they ask him if he will see Miss Arthur, his reply is characteristic. "Does she want—to see—me?"

No; she has not asked to see him, they say. But of course she would be glad to come to him.

"Let her alone," he says, "she don't want to see me. If she did, it would be to scratch out—my eyes—because she is—cheated out of—being married. She isn't hurt. She is too big a fool."

When Claire comes to his bedside, accompanied by Madeline, he says: "Miss Claire—I loved you better than any woman I ever knew—truly. If—you had been Mr. Keith's heiress—I would never have come to Oakley. I thought you were—his heiress when—I wooed you—in Baltimore. But you are the only woman—who ever beat me—and puzzled me. You did not care much, after all."

To Madeline he says, after he has swallowed a second stimulant: "But for you, I would not be here. You women have hunted me down. But you are as brave—as a lioness—a little Nemesis. I—won't—bear malice."

At noon, the notary comes, and Edward Percy makes an affidavit as to the truth of the testimony that will convict Lucian Davlin. It is the affidavit of a fast dying man.

All day Mrs. Ralston sits beside him. And Clarence Vaughan watches the slowly ebbing life tide. Once he seems struggling to say something, and his wife bends down to catch what may be some word of penitence.

"Bury—me like a gentleman."

This is what he says, and Clarence Vaughan smiles bitterly as he thinks, "selfish and egotistical to the last."

Night comes on and the end is very near. Over the dying face flits a malignant shadow, and he makes a last effort to speak. Again the watchers bend nearer.

"I hope—they will—hang Davlin," he breathes, feebly.

The two listeners recoil with horror, at the sound of the vindictive wish from dying lips.

These are the last words of Edward Percy. Slowly go the minutes, and deeper grow the shadows. Again Clarence Vaughan bends above the couch, and then he says: "Your vigil is ended, Mrs. Ralston. He is dead."

That night, while the house is hushed to a quiet, one portion of the household asleep, the other keeping the death-watch, Cora again tries to escape from Oakley. But this time Strong is not to be caught napping, and the vanquished adventuress resigns herself to her fate.

Two days more, and then Edward Percy is buried, according to his request, "like a gentleman."

All that is known outside of Oakley concerning his death is that he was shot by Lucian Davlin, between whom, and himself, some feud had existed.

And John Arthur and Cora remain, and "keep up appearances" to the last.

Dr. Le Guise, or the Professor, has stayed too, for appearance sake. But the day after they have buried Edward Percy, he goes, and very gladly, back to the city. Madeline keeps her promise; he goes free, and none save the few ever know that Dr. Le Guise is an impostor.

At the same time John Arthur turns his back upon Oakley forever. "Appearances" are observed to the last. He goes, tenderly attended by the Professor, by Cora, and by his sister. Goes much muffled, and enacting the rÔle of invalid.

They are taking the sick man South; this is what the villagers think.

But when the train reaches the city, this select party disbands. John Arthur becomes active once more and, with his sister, hurries away in the nearest cab, while the Professor and Cora separate by mutual consent.

And here we will leave them—all but Cora.

She has escaped Scylla only to fall upon Charybdis. As she hurries along through the familiar streets, her plans are laid. She will go to Lucian Davlin's rooms; nobody will be there to dispute her possession for a day or two to come, and she has possessed herself of the keys, left behind as useless by their outlawed owner.

When she ascends the steps, some one, who is lounging past the premises, looks at her narrowly. As she disappears behind the swinging outer door, this lounger becomes wonderfully alert, and hastens away as if he had just discovered his mission.

Two hours later, as Cora descends the stairs and emerges into the street, the vision of a monkey-faced old man appears before her. And while another lays a firm detaining hand upon her arm, the old man, fairly dancing with glee, cries out:

"Ah, ha! here you are, my pretty sharper! I didn't have these premises watched for nothing, did I? Now I have got you! Bring her along, officer, bring her along. She won't dodge us this time."

And Cora is hurried into a cab, closely followed by old Verage, who chatters his doubtful consolation, and laughs his eldritch laughter, and finally consigns her to prison to answer to a charge of swindling.