something he wanted to say, something he had to say before he died. He
gasped a dozen words or more in a tongue utterly unknown to Barnes,
who bent closer to catch the feeble effort. It was he who now shook
his head; with a groan the sufferer closed his eyes in despair. He
choked and coughed violently an instant later.

"Get some water and a towel," cried Miss Thackeray, tremulously. She
was very white, but still clung to the man's hand. "Be quick! Behind
the bar." Then she turned to Jones. "Don't call my father. He can't
stand the sight of blood," she said.

Barnes unbuttoned the coat and revealed the blood-soaked white shirt.

"Better leave this to me," he said in her ear. "There's nothing you
can do. He's done for. Please go away."

"Oh, I sha'n't faint--at least, not yet. Poor fellow! I've seen him
upstairs and wondered who he was. Is he really going to die?"

"Looks bad," said Barnes, gently opening the shirt front. Several of
the craning men turned away suddenly.

"Can't you understand him?" demanded Putnam Jones, from the opposite
side.

"No. Did you get the doctor?"

"He's on the way by this time. He's got a little automobile. Ought to
be here in ten or fifteen minutes."