"You are weaker," he said. "It is only right that I should tell you."

The man did not answer, but lay back, breathing quickly. Something
seemed to catch in his throat. Von Holzen went to the door, and furtive
steps moved away down the dark staircase.

"Go," he said authoritatively, "for the doctor, at once." Then he came
back towards the bed. "Will you take my price?" he said to its
occupant. "I offer it to you for the last time."

"A thousand gulden?"

"Yes."

"It is too little money," replied the dying man. "Make it twelve
hundred."

Von Holzen turned away to the window again thoughtfully. A silence
seemed to have fallen over the busy streets, to fill the untidy room.
The angel of death, not for the first time, found himself in company
with the greed of men.

"I will do that," said Von Holzen at length, "as you are dying."

"Have you the money with you?"

"Yes."

"Ah!" said the dying man, regretfully. It was only natural, perhaps,
that he was sorry that he had not asked more. "Sit down," he said, "and