"It's a pity, a great pity! When I failed to pay what I owed on the property here, and Salome, my sister, saw that I would lose everything unless somebody came to my aid, she did so. I hoped, I fully expected, to be able to return what she advanced. All the world knows now that I was not." "She was not the first person who has been ruined by injudicious indorsement." The Californian winced. His home-coming was proving a terrible disappointment to him, and he little dreamed how much worse than disappointment was yet in store. "Well, bad luck has pursued me. I have lost in every speculation I ever undertook. The last I tried was the evaporation of fruits. There's money in it, if I had the capital--" "Then you did not know how badly things were going with your sister?" "I never dreamed it. You knew her well--Salome was never a whiner. If she had even intimated the straits which she was in, I would have thrown up every chance and come back at once, to put my shoulder to the wheel in some shape. I wouldn't have permitted it." "How happen you here just now?" "My niece, Amy, wrote me of her mother's death. It was a brief, heart-broken little letter. I have it here. It brought me home, but I still fancied that home was this house." The gentleman took from his pocket a small envelope and read its enclosure aloud. It was, as he had stated, extremely short and gave only the facts. "MY DEAR UNCLE FREDERIC: Our mother is dead. She is buried at Quaker cemetery. My father and Hallam are well. So is Cleena. I don't know how to write to you because you are really a stranger to me. The burros are both well. Your loving "AMY KAYE." "There, that's all. It was enough to bring me clear across the continent, however. My heart aches; I should have come sooner. Oh, for one sight of Salome's beautiful face before--" He dropped his head on his hand and a sob shook the strong frame. The doctor rose and busied himself about his patient. He respected the brother's grief, and he liked this man, unthrifty and neglectful as he might have been. Then Marshall made a sign, and the physician left the room so quietly that Mr. Kaye did not hear him go. Outside, in the hall, the valet was waiting, almost breathless with eagerness. "Will he live?" he questioned in a whisper. "Time will tell. I hope so," was the unsatisfactory response. "Well, if he don't, that's his--murderer." The other sprang back as if he had been struck. "Man, take care what you say! How dare you?" "Ain't it reasonable? Didn't he say he was the man that owned the mill, this house, everything before master did? Who else had a grudge against the poor old man?" "Lots of people, I reckon. It won't hurt him to tell the truth. He was as testy as a snapping turtle--you know that. Plenty of folks disliked him. Most likely the person who attacked him was a tramp who hoped to find money. By the way, did anybody look to see if there had been robbery as well as assault?"