chool. And the dear little chap was
always so grateful for it--always made such an awful fuss about it. That
was his way--ever so much too sensitive and grateful. Poor little chap!"

Paul brushed the back of his hand quickly across his eyes; and somehow
the man did the same.

"Well, I was often with him after that," he presently continued. "He
felt that he would never get well, I think, and I could see that he
suffered a good deal from something he had on his mind. I never guessed
what it was; but one night, when I was sitting beside him, he told me
that he could not sleep because of it, and he felt that if he didn't
speak, God would never forgive him. That's how it was he came to tell me
that you, Israel Zuker, were his father."

"I see--I see! Now I understand!"

Zuker strode across and across the chamber, as though uncertain how to
act. At length he disappeared into one of the recesses of the cave,
evidently used as a storehouse, and almost as instantly appeared again
with a coil of rope in his hands.

"For all you did for my son, I spare your life; but I must keep you here
for a few hours. My safety depends on it."

Paul knew that it was useless to protest. He knew well enough that
Zuker had the power of shooting him as a dog, and he was not the man to
stand any nonsense. So he allowed himself to be bound; and when he had
bound him, Zuker brought out some cushions from the recess, and placed
Paul on them.

"There! I am making you as comfortable as circumstances will permit," he
said. "_Gute nacht_--good-night. Remember Israel Zuker again in your
prayers. _Ach!_ it was good of you to be kind to my boy when others so
mocked and hated him. Adieu!"

With these words, he passed swiftly out by the way he had come. Paul
rested for a few minutes, thinking quietly over the strange interview
through which he had just passed. It was kind of Zuker to spare his
life, but he did not much appreciate the prospect of lying there, bound
hand and foot, for several hours--nay, it might so happen that Zuker
would never return.

His last words had an odd sound. It was difficult to know what he meant
by them. He might have an intention of returning, or he might not.
Perhaps he was uncertain himself. He knew well enough that he might be
arrested at any moment, just as his confederate had been. In that case
he (Paul) might lie there, bound hand and foot, for days and nights,
gradually getting weaker and weaker, and finally dying