lishman, but the nurse was a native, a dark-eyed girl of sixteen, who put me strongly in mind of the sisters of my old Cuban chum, Alano. No nurse could have been more attentive than was Kookoo, and to her I think I owe my speedy restoration to health.
It was while sitting among the date palms of the hospital grounds, getting back my strength, that I told my two chums my story for the first time.
"I cannot keep it to myself any longer," I said. "It weighs too heavily on my mind." Then I told them all, and asked them if they thought I was responsible for Caleb Merkin's death.
"No, you are not to blame," said Oliver promptly. "He brought it on himself."
"Of course you are not to blame," put in Dan. "But I suppose it's an awful thing to have on one's mind," he added reflectively.
"It is, Dan. I would much rather see him alive, wretch that he was, than have his—his" I could not finish.
"As you haven't seen fit to take Dr. Barton into your confidence I presume you don't want to tell the authorities," said Oliver.
"No, no! What good would it do? They cannot bring him back to life, and it may only cause me endless trouble."
