"Yes, Harry."

"And Charlotte! The ring--ah, yet it was there, Keep it. Give it
to no one. Two hours ago we might have conquered. But I had to
keep the ring. It was too much, too powerful; a man may not wear
it. Charlotte"--he took my hand and ran the ring upon my finger.
"Poor Charlotte. Here is the ring. The most wonderful--"

Again he dropped over. He was weak--there was something going from
him minute by minute.

"Water," he asked. "Hobart, some water."

It was too pitiful. Harry, our Harry--come to a strait like this!
Hobart rushed to another room with the tumbler. I could hear him
fumbling. I stooped over Harry. But he held up his hand.

"No, Charlotte, no. You must not. If--"

He stopped. Again the strange attention, as if he was listening to
something far off in the distance; the pupils of his hollow, worn,
lustreless eyes were pin-points. He stood on his feet rigid,
quivering; then he held up his hand. "Listen!"

But there was nothing. It was just as before; merely the murmuring
of the city night, and the clock ticking.

"It's the dog! D'you hear her? And the old lady. Now listen, 'Two!
Now there are two! Three! Three! Now there are three!' There--