lv wallets No--what an absurd idea

"No--what an absurd idea. I came of my own accord on account of my ardent desire, my thirst, to discover the land of my birth and to find out who my parents were, that is all."
O'Donoghan smiled, proudly:
"Ah, that is what you want to know," he said. "Well, it is true that I can tell you. It is true that I know."
"Tell me--tell me!" cried Erik, seeing that he hesitated. "Tell me and I promise you pardon for all the evil that you have done, and my everlasting gratitude if I am ever in a position to show it!"
The Irishman gave a covetous look at the leathern bottle.
"It makes my throat dry to talk so much," he said, in a faint tone. "I will drink a little more if you are willing to give it to me."
"There is no more here, but we can get some at our depot of provisions. We have two large cases of brandy there," answered Erik, handing the bottle to Mr. Hersebom.
The latter immediately walked away, followed by Kaas.
"They will not be gone long," said the young man, turning toward his companion. "Now, my brave fellow, do not make merchandise of your confidence. Put yourself in my place. Suppose that during all your life you had been ignorant of the name of your country, and that of your mother, and that at last you found yourself in the presence of a man who knew all about it, and who refused the information which was of such inestimable value to you, and that at the very time when you had saved him, restored him to consciousness and life. I do not ask you to do anything impossible. I do not ask you to criminate yourself if you have anything to reproach yourself with. Give me only an indication, the very slightest. Put me on the track, so that I can find my family; and that is all that I shall ask of you."
"By my faith, I will do you this favor!" said Patrick, evidently moved. "You know that I was a cabin-boy on board the 'Cynthia'?"
He stopped short.
Erik hung upon his words. Was he at last going to find out the truth? Was he going to solve this enigma and discover the name of his family, the land of his birth? Truly the scene appeared to him almost chimerical. He fastened his eyes upon the wounded man, ready to drink in his words with avidity. For nothing in the world would he have interfered with his recital, neither by interruption nor gesture. He did not even observe that a shadow had appeared behind him. It was the sight of this shadow which had stopped the story of Patrick O'Donoghan.
"Mr. Jones!" he said, in the tone of a school-boy detected in some flagrant mischief.
Erik turned and saw Tudor Brown coming around a neighboring hummock, where until this moment he had been hidden from their sight.
The exclamation of the Irishman confirmed the suspicion which during the last hour had presented itself to his mind.
Mr. Jones and Tudor Brown were one and the same person.
He had hardly time to make this reflection before two shots were heard.
Tudor Brown raised his gun and shot Patrick O'Donoghan through the heart, who fell backward.
Then before he had time to lower his rifle, Tudor Brown received a bullet in his forehead, and fell forward on his face.