I'd like to see you go with a hope of a better
life hereafter."
"Don't give me any of your canting talk, Reade," snarled the gambler
weakly.
"I'm not going to do so," sighed Tom, rising. "I'm afraid it would be
useless. Try to remember, Duff, that I allow myself to have no hard
feelings against you. If you possibly can recover I shall be glad to
hear that you've done so."
Then Tom stepped over to Dr. Furniss' side, whispering to him:
"Doc, you'll see to it that some clergyman is called, won't you? Any
clergyman that is the most likely to reach the heart and the soul of a
hardened fellow like Jim Duff."
Dr. Furniss nodded. Men appeared with an old door that was to be used
as a stretcher. On this the gambler was placed, and the physician gave
him such immediate attention as could be supplied on the sidewalk, for
Jim Duff had been shot through the right lung. Then the bearers lifted
the door, bearing the gambler back to the now gloomy Mansion House, the
doctor following. Ashby, who had been strangely quiet after the
shooting, was taken to the local police station and placed in a cell.
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