But he shuddered and looked round and groaned.
'Now look here, Graeme, let's have it. When did you land here? Where is
Nelson? Why didn't you bring him up?'
'He is at the station in his coffin,' he answered slowly.
'In his coffin?' I echoed, my beautiful pictures all vanishing. 'How was
it?'
'Through my cursed folly,' he groaned bitterly.
'What happened?' I asked. But ignoring my question, he said: 'I must see
his children. I have not slept for four nights. I hardly know what I
am doing; but I can't rest till I see his children. I promised him. Get
them for me.'
'To-morrow will do. Go to sleep now, and we shall arrange everything
to-morrow,' I urged.
'No!' he said fiercely; 'to-night--now!'
In half an hour they were listening, pale and grief-stricken, to the
story of their father's death.
Poor Graeme was relentless in his self-condemnation as he told how,
through his 'cursed folly,' old Nelson was killed. The three, Craig,
Graeme, and Nelson, had come as far as Victoria together. There they
left Craig, and came on to San Francisco.
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