dying?"

"So they say."

"Hammerfeldt dying! Yes, I'll come with you."

I turned to the Countess; Wetter was already half-way to the door. He
looked back over his shoulder, and his face was impatient. My eyes met
hers, I read the fear that was in hers. I was strangely fearful myself,
appalled at such a breaking of our dream.

"Good-bye," I said. "I'll come again soon; to-morrow, some time
to-morrow."

"Yes, yes," said she, but hardly as though she believed me.

"Good-bye." I took her hand and kissed it; Wetter looked on, saying
nothing. The thought of concealment did not occur to me. I kissed her
hand two or three times.

"Shall you find him alive?" she murmured, in speculation more than in
question.

"I don't know. Good-bye."

She herself led me to where Wetter was standing.

"It's his breathing," said Wetter. "He can't get his breath; can't speak
at all. Come along."

"I'm ready; I'll follow you."

As I reached the door I turned. She was not looking at me; she had sat
down in a chair by the fire and was gazing fixedly at the flames. I have
had that picture of her often in my mind.

Wetter led me downstairs and out into the street at a rapid pace. I
followed him, trying to gather myself together and think coherently. Too
sudden a change paralyzes; the mind must have time for readjustment.
Hammerfeldt was and had always been so large a figure and a presence so
important in my life; I could only whisper to myself, "He's dying; it's
his breathing; he can't get his breath."

We went in by the back door as we had arranged, and gained the study.

"Quick!" whispered Wetter. "Remember you were in here. Don't make any
excuses about delay. Or put it on me; say I hesitated to rouse you."

I listened little to all that he said, and paid small heed to the
precautions that his wariness suggested.

"I hope he won't be dead when you get there," he added as we started for
the hall. "Here's your hat."

I caught at the word "dead."

"If he's dead----" I repeated aimlessly. "If he's dead, Wetter----"

Then for an instant he turned to me, his face full of expression, his
eyes keen and eager. He shrugged his shoulders.

"He's an old man," said he. "We must all die. And if he's dead----"

"Well, Wetter, well?"

"Well, then you're king at last."

With this he opened the door of my carriage and stood holding it. I
looked him full in the face before I stepped in. He did not flinch; he
nodded his head and smiled.