"Quite dead," he said sorrowfully; "my old friend gone at last. One of
a fine sort too; a just man for all his temper. They called him
'devil,' and he was fierce when he was younger, but if I never meet a
worse devil than he was I shall do well. He was very kind to me once--
very. How did he go?--in pain, I fear."
"We were talking together, when suddenly he was seized with the
attack. I got the medicine as quick as I could and tried to get it
down his throat, but he could not swallow, and in the hurry the glass
was knocked by a jerk of his head right out of my hands. Next second
he was dead."
"Very quick--quicker than I should have expected. Did he say
anything?"
"No."
Now, just as Philip delivered himself of this last lie, a curious
incident happened, or rather an incident that is apt to seem curious
to a person who has just told a lie. The corpse distinctly moved its
right hand--the same that had been clasped over the old man's head as
he denounced his son.
"Good God!" said Philip, turning pale as death, "what's that?" and
even the doctor started a little, and cast a keen look at the dead
face.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153