He knew that Kangaroo was worse. But he was startled to find him looking a dead man. A long, cadaverous yellow-face, exactly the face of a dead man, but with an animal’s dark eyes. He did not move. But he watched Richard come forward from the door. He did not give him his hand. “How are you?” said Richard gently. “Dying.” The one word from the discoloured lips. Somers was silent, because he knew it was only too true. Kangaroo’s dark eyebrows above his motionless dark eyes were exactly like an animal that sulks itself to death. His brow was just sulking to death, like an animal. Kangaroo glanced up at Somers with a rapid turn of the eyes. His body was perfectly motionless. “Did you know I was dying?” he asked. “I was afraid.” “Afraid! You weren’t afraid. You were glad. They’re all glad.” The voice was weak, hissing in its sound. He seemed to speak to himself. “Nay, don’t say that.” Kangaroo took no notice of the expostulation. He lay silent. “They don’t want me,” he said. “But why bother?” “I’m dying! I’m dying! I’m dying!” suddenly shouted Kangaroo, with a breaking and bellowing voice that nearly startled Richard out of his skin. The nurse came running in, followed by Jack. “Mr Cooley! Whatever it is?” said the nurse. He looked at her with long, slow, dark looks. “Statement of fact,” he said, in his faint, husky voice. “_Don’t_ excite yourself,” pleaded the nurse. “You _know_ it hurts you. Don’t think about it, don’t. Hadn’t you perhaps best be left alone?” “Yes, I’d better go,” said Richard, rising. “I want to say good-bye to you,” said Kangaroo faintly, looking up at him with strange, beseeching eyes. Richard, very pale at the gills, sat down again in the chair. Jack watched them both, scowling. “Go out, nurse,” whispered Kangaroo, touching her hand with his fingers, in a loving kind of motion. “I’m all right.” “Oh, Mr Cooley, _don’t_ fret, _don’t_,” she pleaded. He watched her with dark, subtle, equivocal eyes, then glanced at the door. She went, obedient, and Jack followed her. “Good-bye, Lovat!” said Kangaroo in a whisper, turning his face to Somers and reaching out his hand. Richard took the clammy, feeble hand. He did not speak. His lips were closed firmly, his face pale and proud looking. He looked back into Kangaroo’s eyes, unconscious of what he saw. He was only isolated again in endurance. Grief, torture, shame, seethed low down in him. But his breast and shoulders and face were hard as if turned to rock. He had no choice. “You’ve killed me. You’ve killed me, Lovat!” whispered Kangaroo. “Say good-bye to me. Say you love me now you’ve done it, and I won’t hate you for it.” The voice was weak and tense. “But _I_ haven’t killed you, Kangaroo. I wouldn’t be here holding your hand if I had. I’m only so sorry some other villain did such a thing.” Richard spoke very gently, like a woman. “Yes, you’ve killed me,” whispered Kangaroo hoarsely.