The corpse twitched; its head moved slightly; the eyelid lifted the eighth of an inch.
“See that? You’re lucky! And so’s he!” said the doctor. “It’s catalepsy! that’s all—A sudden slight noise at the ear itself will often produce a change of position in catalepsy.”
“Then he’s not dead!” exclaimed Carpentaria.
“Dead? He’s no more dead than you are! It’s just catalepsy, induced probably by that blow. But he must have been very excited previously, and, no doubt, suffering from melancholia too. My dear Mr. Carpentaria, there is only one absolutely reliable symptom of death, and that is—putrefaction. Death is imitated by various diseases. But there are not many that will imitate the coldness of death as catalepsy will. Feel that hand; it’s like ice.”
“And how long will he remain in this condition?” asked Carpentaria, full of joy and relief.
“Till you go and bring me some snuff. Snuff is the best thing in these cases.”
“And he’ll be perfectly well again?”
“Yes, in a day or two.”
“He’ll remember—things?”
“Of course he will! Shall I go for that snuff, or will you?”