n your death no
prayer shall ever pass my lips."

"But, sir, I'm an old----"

"However," interrupted McMasters, "I shall pray that if my life is
spared in any other fashion, I will make full amends for my years of
indifference and neglect. And, Hiram, no one knows how much I truly seek
this divine dispensation. But I have always scoffed at death-bed
confessions, and so my heart grows cold, for I have no right to
ask--now." Again, wearily, "No right--now."

"Ah, master, God is plenteous in mercy. If you but have the faith, sir,
it shall make you whole."

"Very good, had I lived as you have lived, Biggs." Then, after a pause,
"Still, the cause is worthy, my heart is right and I shall approach the
Throne. May God be merciful unto me, a sinner."

"I hope it is not too late yet," faltered Biggs. "Oh, if God would only
call me in your stead, that you might still do the good work that you
find it in your heart to do, how gladly would I go."

A deep sigh was his only answer.

* * * * *

A long silence was finally broken by the sick man. But when he spoke,
his voice was so strange and uncanny that the servant hastened close and
peered anxiously into the fever-flushed face of the sufferer.

"Hiram--I must tell you--a secret," came in a laborious, almost
sepulchral, whisper.

Biggs came closer.

"Bring a chair and sit down. I must talk to you."

As the old servant again leaned forward, the sufferer hesitated; then
with an obvious effort he began.

"Hiram, I am going to give you some instructions which you must obey to
the letter. Will you promise to keep them?"

"I swear it, sir," with great earnestness.

"Good! Now, if this fever seals my lips and the doctor pronounces me
dead----"

"Please, sir," Biggs broke in, tears streaming down his furrowed cheeks,
but his master continued in the same subdued voice, "Whatever happens, I
am not to be embalmed--do you hear me?--not embalmed, but just laid away
as I am now."

"Yes, sir," in a choked voice, which fully betrayed the breaking heart
behind it.

"And now, Hiram, the rest of the secret." He paused and beckoned Biggs
to lean closer.

"In my vault--in the mausoleum, I have had an electric button installed.
That button connects with a silver bell. Lift up that small picture of
Napoleon, there upon the wall."

His hands trembling as with the palsy, Biggs reached out and lifted
aside the picture hanging near the head of the bed,