His attention was drawn to a sound of coughing, and a groan indicating pain. It was evident that the next apartment was occupied by a sick man. Andy's sympathies were excited. It seemed to be a forlorn position to be sick and without attention in this remote quarter. After a moment's hesitation he left his own room and knocked at the other door. "Come in!" was the reply, in a hollow voice. Andy opened the door and entered. On the bed lay a man, advanced in years, with hollow cheeks and every appearance of serious illness. "I am afraid you are very sick," said Andy, gently. "Yes; I have an attack of grip. I am afraid I will have to pass in my checks." "Oh, it isn't as bad as that," said Andy, in a reassuring tone. "Have you no one to take care of you?" "No; everybody here is occupied with schemes for money-making. I can't get any one to look after me for love or money." "Then you have no near friend or relative in Tacoma?" "No; nor, I may say, anywhere else. I have a niece, however, in Syracuse. She is at school. She is the only tie, the only one on whom I have any claim." "If you need money--" began Andy, feeling a little delicate about offering pecuniary assistance. "No, I have no need of that kind. I suppose I look poor, for I never cared about my personal appearance, but I am one of the largest owners of real estate in Tacoma, besides having some thousands of dollars in a San Francisco bank. But what good will it all do me? Here I am, sick, and perhaps near death." "I will do what I can for you," said Andy. "I am myself a visitor in Tacoma. I came on business for a New York gentleman. I am authorized to buy lots in Tacoma. When you are better, I will make you an offer for your land, if you care to sell." "Help me to get well, and you shall have it on your own terms." "You will need some one besides myself. Do you authorize me to hire an attendant?" "Yes, I shall be glad to have you do so. I begin to hope for recovery, through your assistance. I had given myself up for lost." "Then I will go out and see what I can do. Do you authorize me to pay liberally for the service of a nurse?" "Pay anything--fifty dollars a week, if necessary; I can afford it." "I will go out at once. I will see if I can buy some oranges." Andy left the hotel and walked toward the steamboat wharf. It was deserted, except by two persons. A young man of thirty, bronzed by exposure to the weather, who looked like a farmer, stood beside a plain, cheap trunk, on which sat a woman somewhat younger, who had a weary and anxious look. The young man--her husband, doubtless--seemed troubled. "Good-afternoon," said Andy, pleasantly. "Are you in any trouble? Is there anything I can do for you?"