"God will reward you for
your friendship, your bravery, and your devotion. There must
be a special honor roll in heaven for such noble men as you."
Theriere smiled sadly.
"Byrne will tell you all," he said, "except who I am--he
does not know that."
"Is there any message, my friend," asked the girl, "that you
would like to have me deliver?"
Theriere remained silent for a moment as though thinking.
"My name," he said, "is Henri Theriere. I am the Count de
Cadenet of France. There is no message, Miss Harding, other
than you see fit to deliver to my relatives. They lived in Paris
the last I heard of them--my brother, Jacques, was a deputy."
His voice had become so low and weak that the girl could
scarce distinguish his words. He gasped once or twice, and
then tried to speak again. Barbara leaned closer, her ear
almost against his lips.
"Good-bye--dear." The words were almost inaudible, and
then the body stiffened with a little convulsive tremor, and
Henri Theriere, Count de Cadenet, passed over into the keeping
of his noble ancestors.
"He's gone!" whispered the girl, dry-eyed but suffering. She
had not loved this man, she realized, but she had learned to
think of him as her one true friend in their little world of
scoundrels and murderers.
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