lieve- that you are guilty and I want you to tell me the truth. You are growing weaker—you are going to die—who killed Doctor Merton?"
"I did," Varge replied, meeting calmly the challenge in the other's eyes.
Doctor Kreelmar bent closer.
"Don't you believe that I am your friend?" he asked, with gruff tenderness.
Slowly Varge's hand tightened over the doctor's—tighter and tighter—increasing the pressure with his mighty strength. Doctor Kreelmar tried to look unconcerned, then bit his lip, then grasped with his other hand at the seat of his chair, and then with the pain was literally forced dancing to his feet.
"Confound you!" he burst out suddenly, unable to bear it any longer. "Let go, will you!"
With a smile, Varge released his hold.
"It was useless for you to attempt a ruse like that," he said simply; "for even if you had made me believe you, there was only one answer I could make." Then, with a catch in his voice, unconsciously repeating the warden's words: "You've got a big heart, doctor; I understand, and—and God bless you!"
"And you've got a fool head!" growled the little man, puckering up his face to its fiercest aspect in an effort to distract attention from the suspicious moisture that had suddenly dimmed his eyes. "A stubborn, mule-headed fool!" He turned away, but halted at the foot of the bed and turned again. "You're a strong man, Varge," he flung out, "a strong man—both ways. And seeing that you're not going to die, the warden told
