"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.

"Nothing," he said. "I have seen that happen before where there has
been considerable tension of the muscles before death; it is only
their final slackening, that is all. Come, will you ring the bell?
They had better come and take it upstairs."

This sad task had just been performed, and Mr. Caley was about to take
his leave, when Pigott came down and whispered something into his ear
that evidently caused him the most lively astonishment. Drawing Philip
aside, he said--