"If he arrives, tell him to hasten to Mr. Corkey's. Mr. Corkey is
fatally ill with pneumonia. He must see Mr. Chalmers."

Twenty-four hours pass, with Corkey no better--moaning and asking for
Chalmers. All other affairs are as nothing.

Chalmers does not come.

Twenty-four hours more go by. The doctor now allows none of the
comrades to see the sick man.

He does not roll and toss so much. But he inquires feebly and
constantly for Chalmers.

At midnight he calls his wife. "You've heard me speak of Chalmers,
sissy," he says.

There is a ring on the door of the flat.

"That's him now."

But it is a neighbor, come to stay the night out.

"Lock the door. Open that drawer, sissy. Get out that big letter."

The trembling little woman obeys.

"Sissy, did you know we was broke?"