men were silent. Dr. Frayley absently drummed on the table with his fingers.
"Did he say anything to-day?" he asked—"anything from which you inferred that he was not dead?"
Hawver stared and did not reply.
"Perhaps," continued Frayley, "he made a sign, a gesture—lifted a finger, as in warning. It's a trick he had a habit when saying something serious announcing the result of a diagnosis, for example."
"Yes, he did—just as his apparition had done. But, good God! did you ever know him?"
Hawver was apparently growing nervous.
"I knew him. I have read his book, as will every physician some day. It is one of the most striking and important of the century's contributions to medical science. Yes, I knew him; I attended him in an illness three years ago. He died."
Hawver sprang from his chair, manifestly disturbed. He strode forward and back across the room; then approached his friend, and in a voice not altogether steady, said:
"Doctor, have you anything to say to me—as a physician?"
"No, Hawver; you are the healthiest man
