“Never mind. Were enquiries set on foot, things would go badly with you. I die, I hope, as a man——” He paused, struggling for breath. “I always knew,” he continued, “that the fate I have met might be mine. There is no hope, you say. I may live for—two hours.” “You may, mate, but it is not certain. You are taking the dose hard,” said Scrivener. “I want you to do something for me, Scrivener.” “Anything,” replied the man, falling on his knees. “Fetch my wife here.” “Your wife!” said Simpkins suddenly. “Dare you see her, mate?” “I dare anything. I have one last—_desperate_ wish; it must be granted. I must see my wife.” “But if she is in Yorkshire, Silver?” queried Scrivener. “I have a premonition that she is in London,” replied Rowton. His words came more and more slowly, with longer and longer gasps between. “Scrivener—you know Rowton Heights? Wire there at once—get Mrs. Rowton’s address in London, and then fetch her here. You don’t object, do you? If so, at any cost, I’ll get back to my hotel.” “I’ll do what you wish,” said Scrivener. “It seems reasonable enough,” echoed Simpkins. “Of course, you’ll take an oath, pal,” continued Scrivener, “that you’ll let out nothing.” The ghost of a smile played round Rowton’s white lips. “Heaven knows I am a deeply-dyed scoundrel,” he said, “but honour among thieves. You may bring Mrs. Rowton to this house without danger to the Silver School.” Scrivener left the room without another word, and Simpkins seated himself by the dying man. As Scrivener ran downstairs he could not help muttering some words to himself. “Ours is a beastly calling; there’s no mercy in a school like ours. If it were anyone but Rowton I should not mind a brass button—but Rowton! ’Tain’t that he was _soft_; ’tain’t that he was specially kind; but he was _straight_, although he belonged to us. We’ll go to pieces now without him. Long John made a huge mistake.” Scrivener sprang into a cab and drove to the nearest post-office. From there he wired to Rowton Heights, remaining in the office until the message bearing Mrs. Rowton’s address in town was sent to him. He then hailed another hansom and drove straight to the Universal Hotel. This was the night on which Nance had come to London and had received Crossley’s awful communication. She had driven straight to the hotel with Lady Georgina, and when Scrivener was suddenly announced the two ladies were in a private sitting-room. From the moment she left Clapham Common Nance had talked incessantly. She had seemed to all appearances in the highest spirits. She had refused to disclose the faintest hint with regard to her interview with Crossley. Beyond telling Lady Georgina that she believed the man to be altogether mistaken about a certain business which he had undertaken for her, she turned her conversation resolutely from the subject.