Part 18 (1/2)

Mr. Bouncing sighed gently.

”Well,” he said; ”then all I can say is that you make very odd requests.

One thing I'm perfectly sure about: if you go and look at the Cresta, you'll go down it, you're such a careless man, and then you'll be killed. Is that what you want?”

”I could do with it,” said Winn, briefly.

”That,” said Mr. Bouncing, ”is because you're strong. It really isn't nice to talk in that light way about being killed to any one who has got to be before very long whether he likes it or not. If you were in my place you'd value your life, unless it got too uncomfortable, of course.”

Winn apologized instantly. Mr. Bouncing accepted his apology graciously.

”You'll learn,” he explained kindly, ”how to talk to very ill people in time, and then probably you'll never see any more of them. Experience is a very silly thing, I've often noticed; it hops about so. No continuity.

What I was going to say was, don't be worried about young Rivers and my wife. Take my word for it, you're making a great mistake.”

”I am glad to hear you say so,” Winn answered. ”As a matter of fact, I have at present a few little private worries of my own; but I'm relieved, you think the Rivers boy is all right. I've been thinking of having a little talk with that tutor of his.”

”Ah, I shouldn't do that if I were you,” said Mr. Bouncing, urgently; ”you're sure to be violent. I see you have a great deal of violence in you; you ought to control it. It's bad for your nerves. There are things I could tell you which would make you change your mind about young Rivers, but I don't know that I shall; it would excite me too much. I think I should like you to go down and telephone to Dr. Gurnet. Tell him my temperature is normal. It's a very odd thing; I haven't had a normal temperature for over three years. Perhaps I'm going to get better, after all. It's really only my breathing that's troubling me to-night. It would be funny if I got well, wouldn't it? But I mustn't talk any more; so don't come back until I knock in the night. Pa.s.s me the 'Pink 'Un.'”

Winn pa.s.sed him the ”Pink 'Un” and raised him with one deft, strong movement more comfortably up on his pillows.

”You've got quite a knack for this sort of thing,” Mr. Bouncing observed. ”If you'd been a clever man, you might have been a doctor.”

Mr. Bouncing did not knock during the night. Winn heard him stirring at ten o'clock, and went in. The final change had come very quickly. Mr.

Bouncing was choking. He waved his hand as if the very appearance of Winn between him and the open balcony door kept away from him the air that he was vainly trying to breathe. Then a rush of blood came in a stream between his lips. Winn moved quickly behind him and lifted him in his arms.

Mr. Bouncing was no weight at all, and he made very little sound. He was quite conscious, and the look in his eyes was more interested than alarmed. The rush of bleeding stopped suddenly; his breathing was weaker and quieter, but he no longer choked.

”Look here, old man,” Winn said, ”let me get your wife.”

But Mr. Bouncing signaled to him not to move; after a time he whispered:

”This is the first time I ever had hemorrhage. Most uncomfortable.”

”Do let me get your wife!” Winn urged again.

”No,” said Mr. Bouncing. ”Women--not much good--after the first.”

”Don't talk any more then, old man,” Winn pleaded. ”You'll start that bleeding off again.”

But Mr. Bouncing made a faint clicking sound that might have been a laugh.

”Too late,” he whispered. ”Don't matter now. No more risks. Besides, I'm too--too uncomfortable to live.”

There were several pauses in the hemorrhage, and at each pause Mr.

Bouncing's mind came back to him as clear as gla.s.s. He spoke at intervals.

”Not Rivers,” he said, fixing Winn's eyes, ”Roper--Roper.” Then he leaned back on the strong shoulder supporting him. ”Glad to go,” he murmured. ”Life has been--a d.a.m.ned nuisance. I've had--enough of it.”

Then again, between broken, flying breaths he whispered, ”Lonely.”

”That's all right,” Winn said gently.