became rapidly worse, and towards the end of April we were
informed that he was beyond all hope, and that he wished to make
a last communication to us.

"When we entered his room he was propped up with pillows and
breathing heavily. He besought us to lock the door and to come
upon either side of the bed. Then, grasping our hands, he made a
remarkable statement to us, in a voice which was broken as much
by emotion as by pain. I shall try and give it to you in his own
very words.

"'I have only one thing,' he said, 'which weighs upon my mind at
this supreme moment. It is my treatment of poor Morstan's
orphan. The cursed greed which has been my besetting sin through
life has withheld from her the treasure, half at least of which
should have been hers. And yet I have made no use of it myself,--
so blind and foolish a thing is avarice. The mere feeling of
possession has been so dear to me that I could not bear to share
it with another. See that chaplet dipped with pearls beside the
quinine-bottle. Even that I could not bear to part with,
although I had got it out with the design of sending it to her.
You, my sons, will give her a fair share of the Agra treasure.
But send her nothing--not even the chaplet--until I am gone.
After all, men have been as bad as this and have recovered.

"'I will tell you how Morstan died,' he continued. 'He had
suffered for years from a weak heart, but he concealed it from
every one. I alone knew it. When in India, he and I, through a
remarkable chain of circumstances, came into possession of a
considerable treasure. I brought it over to England, and on the