As he was going out he met Emmons, who stopped him, and after a brief interchange on the subject of Mr. Lee’s illness, observed that he had been wanting a few words with Mr. Overton for some days. “About Bob Lee, Mr. Overton. Do you know his past history?” “I do,” said Overton. He held up his hand and signaled to his coachman. To so simple an answer Emmons for a moment could think of nothing to say, but feeling that so important a matter could not be so quickly settled he went on: “Oh, of course, in that case I have nothing to say. It is no business of mine.” Overton was pulling on his gloves and did not reply. “But have you ever thought, Mr. Overton, what sort of example your friendship with such a man offered to the community?” “A very good example, I should think.” Again Emmons was confused. “Of Christian charity?” he asked. “Of an even rarer virtue, Mr. Emmons--common-sense.” And the great man got into his brougham and drove away. Chapter X Vickers had heard Overton’s voice downstairs, and would have liked to explain his reasons for staying. And yet they would have been difficult to define. He had come home the evening before, fully determined to go. He had dressed and packed, and just as he was ready a knock had come at his door. Waiting only to hide his bags, and to shut up all the bureaus which the haste of his packing had left open, he heard Nellie call to him. For an instant he had thought that she had discovered his intention; the next he heard Nellie was asking him to go for a doctor. Before dawn, however, a time had come when he might easily have slipped away, unobserved, if he had wanted to; and yet he had not again thought of going. No one, he had said to himself, would go away and leave in such trouble the household that had sheltered him. Nor was it only the sense of companionship with Nellie that kept him, but the unwonted knowledge that some one depended on and needed him. Trained nurses were not to be obtained in Hilltop, and even if they had been, most of the work of nursing would have devolved on Vickers, for Mr. Lee would not let him go out of his sight. All that day and most of the next night Vickers sat beside his bed, wondering whether the old man’s death was to be the end of the story or the beginning. Should he stay, or should he go? He told himself that Overton was right, and that the only decent thing for a wanderer and a fugitive to do was to go quickly and quietly. But the remembrance of Emmons poisoned the vision of his own departure. On the second day of his illness, Mr. Lee died. For all his devotion Vickers was not with him at the moment. The old man had fallen into a comfortable sleep about noon; and Nellie had made Vickers go and lie down. He was awakened a few hours afterward by the girl herself. She came and sat down beside his sofa, and told him gently that his father had died without waking. “My poor child,” said Vickers, “were you all alone?”