"Somehow I feel a sense of wrong," Meredith whispered to Gay. "I feel as
if I had done the fellow to death myself, as if it were all out of gear. I
know, now, how Henry felt over the great Guisard. My God, how tall he
looks! That doesn't seem to me like a thug's hand."
The surgeon nodded. "Of course, if there's a mistake to be made, you can
count on Barrett and his sergeants to make it. I doubt if this is their
man. When they found him what clothes he wore were torn and stained; but
they had been good once, especially the linen."
Barrett bent over the recumbent figure. "See here. Jerry," he said, "I
want to talk to you a little. Rouse up, will you? I want to talk to you as
a friend."
The incoherent muttering continued.
"See here, Jerry!" repeated Barrett, more sharply. "Jerry! rouse up, will
you? We don't want any fooling; understand that, Jerry!" He dropped his
hand on the man's shoulder and shook him slightly. The Teller uttered a
short, gasping cry.
"Let me," said Gay, and swiftly interposed. Bending over the cot, he said
in a pleasant, soft voice: "It's all right, old man; it's all right.
Slattery wants to know what you did with that man down at Plattville, when
you got through with him. He can't remember, and he thinks there was money
left on him. Slattery's head was hurt--he can't remember. He'll go shares
with you, when he gets it. Slattery's going to stand by you, if he can get
the money."
The Teller only tried to move his free hand to the shoulder Barrett had
shaken.
"Slattery wants to know," repeated the surgeon, gently moving the hand
back upon the sheet. "He'll divvy up, when he gets it. He'll stand by you,
old man."
"Would you please not mind," whispered the Teller faintly, "would you
please not mind if you took care not to brush against my shoulder again?"
The surgeon drew back with an exclamation; but the Teller's whisper
gathered strength, and they heard him murmuring oddly to himself. Meredith
moved forward.
"What's that?" he asked, with a startled gesture.
"Seems to be trying to sing, or something," said Barrett, bending over to
listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, the
fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down and
gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free. They
moved steadily; they seemed to be framing the semblance of an old ballad
that Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became a rich
but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of some far,
halting minstrelsy: "Wave willows--murmur waters--golden sunbeams smile, Earthly music--cannot
waken--lovely--Annie Lisle."