The room was filling with men. Dr. Semple, whose office was across the hall, was examining the wound. In every man there is a divine spark of manliness. It is not always apparent. Sometimes it would seem to have burned itself out with the fierce fires of passion,--sometimes to have been quenched by the slow drippings that come from the fount called selfishness,--oftener, perhaps, it is smothered under a sodden blanket of sensuality and low desires,--but it is a spark of the divine fire, and when the right wind strikes it it leaps into flame. At the sound of Margaret's voice Victor De Jarnette struggled to rise. "Raise me up," he panted. "There is something--I--must say." "Say it quickly," said the doctor, holding a handkerchief to stanch the blood. "There is no time to lose." To Richard and the men back of them he added, impressively, "This is a dying statement." And they gave close heed. His head supported by Richard's arm, Victor gathered his strength for one supreme effort, and said so distinctly that all in the room heard it, "It was accidental. I did it myself. I was--cleaning--my revolver." Men's eyes sought his desk where lay a handkerchief which had evidently been used for the purpose. "It--went off--in--my hand." He sank back on a pillow taken hastily from the couch. It was one that Margaret had made for him before they were married--in the Harvard colors. It looked ghastly put to such a use. "Can't you do something?" asked Richard De Jarnette hoarsely of the doctor. "No, Richard," he said gently, "he is almost gone." The dying man opened his eyes. "Dick,--" his voice was very faint. "Yes, Victor." "--take care of m--" Then, as if some sudden thought or recollection had come to him, he struggled again to rise, whispering wildly, "The will!... Richard! the will! Don't let--" His head dropped back against the crimson letters. That which it was in his heart to say would be forever unsaid. CHAPTER X "DUST TO DUST" At the coroner's inquest Margaret was the first one questioned. When Victor De Jarnette breathed his last, Dr. Semple had taken her by the hand and led her, apparently almost stupefied, into Richard's room, there to await the summons to appear before the coroner, who was immediately notified of the death. When she came in she was entirely collected, though very pale. Her appearance indicated more horror at what had occurred than grief, which was but natural under the circumstances, as more than one man thought, recalling the past year.