I'm afraid I had nothing to say, and after a few minutes' silence, he continued, leaning forward and looking me straight in the face: "Now listen to me. I am a poor man, and I haven't very long to live—but even that is too long."
"Too long. Dr. Eckington? What do you mean?" I inquired, in astonishment.
"This," said he. "If I shuffle off this mortal coil within the next week, Gwen will have five thousand pounds, for which amount my life is insured; but as the premium is due within seven days, and I haven't the necessary money for it, the policy will lapse. My life has been a hard one, my friend, and this insurance is all I have been able to do in the shape of provision for my girl when I'm gone. I've never been able to save a penny beyond this."
"But, my dear sir," I interrupted, "you are good for years yet. Why talk like this?"
"Not for years, d'Escombe," he answered, with a sad smile. "Just listen here." He tapped his chest, and I was surprised to find how very badly diseased his heart was. "You see how it is," he continued. "I can't hold out much longer. Why prolong the agony and leave the girl penniless? No; you and
