a diagnosis of death contd...
'Doubtless this seems to you a very commonplace "ghost story"
- one constructed on the regular lines laid down by the old masters
of the art. If that were so I should not have related it, even if
it were true. The man was not dead; I met him to-day in Union Street.
He passed me in a crowd.'
Hawver had finished his story and both 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 I ever knew. As a friend
I advise you to go to your room. You play the violin like an angel.
Play it; play something light and lively. Get this cursed bad business
off your mind.'
The next day Hawver was found dead in his room, the violin at his
neck, the bow upon the string, his music open before him at Chopin's
Funeral March.
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