It was indeed as she had said. Ralph Raymond was breathing slowly and with difficulty, and it was evident from the look upon his face, that the time of the great change had come.
Robert stood by the bedside holding his father's hand, and sobbing bitterly.
As Paul Morton entered, the dying man turned his glazing eyes toward him, and then toward the boy at his side, as if again to commend him to his care.
Paul understood, and with pale face he nodded as if to assure the dying man that he undertook the trust.
Then a more cheerful look came over the face of Ralph. He looked with a glance of tender love at his son, then his head sank back, his eyes closed, and the breath left his body.
The deed was consummated! Ralph Raymond was dead!
"Poor gentleman! So he's dead!" said the nurse with a professional sigh, "and no doubt he's better off."
No answer was made to this remark. Neither Paul Morton nor Robert seemed inclined to speak. The former was brought face to face with the consequence of his crime. The latter was filled with the first desolation of grief.
Three days later the funeral took place. Paul Morton took care that everything should be in strict accordance with the wealth and position of the deceased. He strove to satisfy his troublesome conscience by paying the utmost respect to the man for whose death he had conspired.
Owing to the long absence of Ralph Raymond from the country, there were not very many who remembered him, but Paul Morton invited his own friends and acquaintances liberally, and the invitation was accepted by a large number, as there are always those who have some morbid feelings and appear to enjoy appearing at a funeral.
The rooms were draped in black. The doorbell was muffled in crape, and the presence of death in the house was ostentatiously made known to all who passed.
Among these there was James Cromwell, who for some reason, nearly every evening, after his hours of labor were over, came up to take a look at the house in Twenty-ninth Street, which appeared to have a great attraction for him. When he saw the crape he managed to learn through a servant the precise hour of the funeral, and applied to his employer for leave of absence on that day.
"It will be inconvenient," said his employer.