"Don't be afraid, Rayner, this is not Zynool's house. It's the hospital, you're all right here," said Mark, taking his limp hand. "You brought me here--kind--I'll tell Hester." His lips parted in a feeble smile, then his face became convulsed. "Never see Hester again," he moaned. "It's all up, Cheveril--I'm hunted--you'll not let them take me--you'll not give me up----?" "Don't trouble, Rayner. You're quite safe here," said Mark soothingly. "The doctor's bringing something to ease you." He laid his hand on the long, thin fingers, and stroked them gently. "Now, my dear fellow," said the doctor cheerfully, "this ought to help you a bit." He administered an opiate. Soon the eyelids drooped, and sleep visited the dying man. Mark kept unremitting vigil beside the low mattress through the long hours of the night. At length there was a slight movement; he could see by the light of the flickering oil-lamp overhead that the eyes of the sufferer were open and turned to him. Hoping he might fall asleep again he made no response. Then a hand was feebly stretched out to him. "Yes, I'm here, Rayner! Mark Cheveril--close beside you." "I know--I know--good--kind--Hester's friend." After a pause he seemed to wish to speak again, though the effort was painful. "One night I stood by her cot--in her dreams she murmured--'the false and the true.' It seemed a home thrust--I felt furious at the time. Cheveril--I've been the false--I see it now. You are the true--you'll understand better--when you know." His face again became convulsed with emotion, and Mark bent over him with pity in his eyes, unable to utter a word. The first streak of the dawn began to steal through the open windows. "Ha, the daylight will be upon us, Hester," cried Rayner, with strange clearness of tone. He tried to move. A terrible spasm seized him. Mark called for the doctor, but before he came the sufferer was quiet again and seemed to be sleeping. The doctor stooped over him. "He's gone, Cheveril," he said quietly. "Your watch is ended. It was only a question of hours. Death has been merciful in releasing him so speedily." The silver dawn was brightening into day when Mark Cheveril and the weary doctor stood together at the door of the dispensary--Dr. Campbell to snatch a few moments rest at home after the labours of the night; Mark Cheveril to set out with a heavy heart to Madras. "You'll look in on the Collector after breakfast, Campbell, and see that he's all right, after last night. I say, didn't he do splendidly?" asked Mark, with a light coming into his tired eyes.