"I don't
just sabe."
"I saw him watching you once--when you were asleep," said Doris. "He
seemed terribly anxious. I was afraid of him--and I felt sorry for
him--"
Pete lay back and stared at the opposite wall. "He sure was game!" he
murmured. "And he was my friend."
Pete turned his head quickly as Doris stepped toward the door. "Could
you git me some of them papers--about The Spider?"
"Yes," she answered hesitatingly, as she left the room.
Pete closed his eyes. He could see The Spider standing beside his bed
supported by two internes, dying on his feet, fighting for breath as he
told Pete to "see that party--in the letter"--and "that some one had
trailed him too close." And "close the cases," The Spider had said.
The game was ended.
When Doris came in again Pete was asleep. She laid a folded newspaper
by his pillow, gazed at him for a moment, and stepped softly from the
room.
At noon she brought his luncheon. When she came back for the tray she
noticed that he had not eaten, nor would he talk while she was there.
But that evening he seemed more like himself.
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