“Thank you,” said Tom wearily.  “Yes, I am glad.”

And then I grasped the thin brown hand in my own for a moment, and felt it respond faintly to my clasp.

We sat as quietly as before in the cheerful, smoke-filled room, I puffing slightly at my Ajar, and Tom’s sleepless eyes fixed absently on the wall; and then presently I went to the window and watched the dull gray dawn creep over the still sleeping city.

“Well, here’s another day,” I said with a sigh, turning back to the room.  “I must go, old fellow.”

There was no reply.  Startled, I bent over the chair, and looked in the face, scarcely more ivory-white than before.  And then I saw that for Callender there would be no more days.

THE END.