“He was not alone.  At his side stood her sister, eagerly pointing across the alley to herself.  It was the appearance of the sister which presently convinced her that what she saw was reality and no dream.  Charity had risen from her bed to greet the newcomer, and her hasty toilet was not one which could have been easily imagine, even by her sister.  The long-absent one had returned.  He was there, and he did not know what these last five minutes had done for them all.  The joy of what she had to tell him was too much for her discretion.  Noting how profoundly her brother slept, she slipped out of the room to the side door and ran across the alley to her own house.  Her nephew was no longer in the doorway where she had seen him, but he had left the door ajar and she rushed in to find him.  He was in the parlor with Miss Charity, and no sooner did her eyes fall on them both than her full heart overflowed, and she blurted out their good fortune.  Their wonder was immense and in the conversation which ensued unnoted minutes passed.  Not till the clock struck did she realize that she had left her brother alone for a good half-hour:  This was not right and she went hurrying back, the happiest woman in town.  But it was a short-lived happiness.  As she reentered the sick-room she realized that something was amiss.  Her brother had moved from where she had left him, and now lay stretched across the foot of the bed, where he had evidently fallen from a standing position.  He was still breathing, but in great gasps which shook the bed.  When she bent over him in anxious questioning, he answered her with a ghastly stare, and that was all.  Otherwise, everything looked the same.

“‘What has happened?  What have you done?’ she persisted, trying to draw him up on the pillow.  He made a motion.  It was in the direction of the front door.  ‘Don’t let her in,’ he muttered.  ’I don’t trust her, I don’t trust her.  Let me die in peace.’  Then, as Miss Thankful became conscious of a stir at the front door, and caught the sound of a key turning in the lock, which could only betoken the return of the nurse, he raised himself a little and she saw the wallet hanging out of his dressing gown.  ’I have hidden it,’ he whispered, with a nervous look toward the door:  ’I was afraid she might come and take it from me, so I put it in—­’ He never said where.  His eyes, open and staring straight before him, took on a look of horror, then slowly glazed under the terrified glance of Miss Thankful.  Death had cut short that vital sentence, and simultaneously with the entrance of the nurse, whose return he had so much feared, he uttered his last gasp and sank back lifeless on his pillow.  “With a cry Miss Thankful pounced on the wallet.  It opened out flat in her hand, as empty as her life seemed at that minute.  But she was a brave woman and in another instant her courage had revived.  The money could not be far away; she would find it at the first search.