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Rh That brought the doctor down on me, like a hawk. He made a bluff at feeling my pulse, but his fingers sank into the flesh of my forearm until they left a mark. And the next moment the yellow-faced old lawyer was at his elbow. And on the far side of the room I could hear a woman crying.

"Will she be strong enough for the ordeal?" tearfully inquired the old snipe.

Doctor Klinger looked concerned.

"I'm afraid it must be hurried. As you see, her strength is going!"

"But her mind is quite clear?"

"Quite clear," the doctor replied.

"Your mind is quite clear?" the old rascal asked as he leaned over me. "Quite clear, my dear?" That frog-chorus struck me as funny, but I could feel the doctor's grip tighten on my arm.

"Clear as a whistle!" I whispered back—and I had to chuckle at his involuntary wince. It was clearly no time for facetiousness, his face said, as plain as words.

"Ah, quite clear!" he cooingly reiterated as he backed away with his document. "Then I shall read what you dictated to me day before yesterday. And if there are any omissions, or any corrections, please make a sign for me to stop."