Mr. Peters paused in front of one of the tenement houses, and motioned with his thumb over his shoulder for Richard to follow him through a yawning doorway. The hall was as dark as a cave, and full of stale, moldy odors. Peters shuffled cautiously along the bare boards until he kicked his toe against the first step of the staircase. "Keep close to the wall, Mr. Shackford, and feel your way up. They've used the banisters for kindling, and the landlord says he shan't put in any more. I went over here the other night," added Mr. Peters reminiscentially. After fumbling several seconds for the latch, Mr. Peters pushed open a door, and ushered Richard into a large, gloomy rear room. A kerosene lamp was burning dimly on the mantel-shelf, over which hung a coarsely-colored lithograph of the Virgin in a pine frame. Under the picture stood a small black crucifix. There was little furniture,--a cooking-stove, two or three stools, a broken table, and a chest of drawers. On an iron bedstead in the corner lay Torrini, muffled to the chin in a blanket, despite the hot midsummer night. His right arm, as if it were wholly disconnected with his body, rested in a splint on the outside of the covering. As the visitors entered, a tall dusky woman with blurred eyes rose from a low bench at the foot of the bed. "Is he awake?" asked Peters. The woman, comprehending the glance which accompanied the words, though not the words themselves, nodded yes. "Here is Mr. Shackford come to see you, Torrini," Peters said. The man slowly unclosed his eyes; they were unnaturally brilliant and dilated, and seemed to absorb the rest of his features. "I didn't want him." "Let by-gones be by-gones, Torrini," said Richard, approaching the bedside. "I am sorry about this." "You are very good; I don't understand. I ask nothing of Slocum; but the signorina comes every day, and I cannot help it. What would you have? I'm a dead man," and he turned away his face. "It is not so bad as that," said Richard. Torrini looked up with a ghastly smile. "They have cut off the hand that struck you, Mr. Shackford." "I suppose it was necessary. I am very sorry. In a little while you will be on your feet again." "It is too late. They might have saved me by taking the arm, but I would not allow them. I may last three or four days. The doctor says it." Peters, standing in the shadow, jerked his head affirmatively. "I do not care for myself," the man continued,--"but she and the little ones--That is what maddens me. They will starve." "They will not be let starve in Stillwater," said Richard. Torrini turned his eyes upon him wistfully and doubtfully. "You will help them?" "Yes, I and others." "If they could be got to Italy," said Torrini, after meditating, "it would be well. Her farther," giving a side look at the woman, "is a fisherman of Capri." At the word Capri the woman lifted her head quickly. "He is not rich, but he's not poor; he would take her."