"Does he know anybody?" queried David Hautville.

"Just as well as ever he did." Margaret Bean rubbed a tear dry on
her cheek with her starched apron.

"We've got to see him, then."

"I dunno as you can--the doctor--"

"I don't care anything about the doctor! We've _got_ to _see him!"_
David's voice rang out quite loud in the hush of murder and death
which seemed to fill the house. Margaret Bean stood aside with a
scared look. David Hautville threw open the door on the right, and he
and Madelon went in.

Lot Gordon's eyes turned towards them, but not his head. He lay as
still in bed as if he were already dead, and his long body raised the
gay patchwork quilt in a stiff ridge like a grave.

Madelon went close to him and bent over him. "Tell who stabbed you,"
said she, in a sharp voice.

Lot looked up at her, and a red flush came over his livid face.

"Tell who stabbed you."

Lot smiled feebly, but he did not speak.

Margaret Bean came in, with her old husband shuffling at her heels. A