"James," he said agitatedly, "I haven't thought much about the Almighty in these last years; but I give you my word, I have prayed that I might see you before I die." "My dear Denis, don't! I beg you not to excite yourself. I implore you----" Asshlin made a harsh sound of impatience. "Don't waste breath over a dying man," he said roughly. Then, seeing the distress in the other's face, he altered his tone. "Don't take it to heart, James! It's the road we must all travel. They think there's life in me yet, but I know better. You may blindfold a sheep as much as you like, but 'twill know that you're dragging it to the slaughter. I tell you I'm done for--as done for as if the undertaker had measured me for the coffin." He moved his head slightly and painfully, his feverish glance brightening. "James," he exclaimed suddenly, "I'm in a terrible position! But 'tisn't death that's troubling me." "Denis!" "'Tis true! I'm not frightened of death--I hope I'm man enough to face a natural law. 'Twould have been better if I'd had to face it thirty years ago." "Denis, don't! I beg you to keep quiet----" "Quiet? I tell you there's not much quiet for a man like me. 'Tisn't what I'm going to that's troubling me, but what I'm leaving behind. I'll be paying me own score on the other side; but here 'tis others will be paying it for me." His burning eyes fixed themselves on Milbanke's. "But, my dear old friend----" "Don't talk to me, James! Don't waste words on me. I'm broke inside and out. I'm smashed. I'm done for." A spasm of pain, mental and physical, twisted his features. "The weak, worthless egotist has come to the end of his rope!" He tried to laugh. Milbanke, in deep apprehension, laid his hand lightly on his shoulder. "Denis," he pleaded, "don't talk like this! Don't torture yourself like this!" Asshlin groaned. "'Tis involuntary!" he cried. "'Tis wrung from me. Every time they come into the room--every time I see the tears in their eyes--every time they kiss me, I tell you I taste hell." "Who?" "The children. My children." Another spasm crossed his face. "You once told me I was not fit to have children, James--and you were right. By God, you were right!" "Denis, I refuse to listen. I insist--I----" "Don't bother yourself! 'Tisn't of my damned health I'm thinking." "Then what is it? What is troubling you?" "The children--the children. I've been a blackguard, James--a blackguard." He moved his head sharply, regardless of the agony the movement caused. "I tell you I don't care what's before myself. I've always been a reckless fool. But 'tis the children--the children." "What of the children?" A sound of mockery and despair escaped Asshlin.