His hands trembling as with the palsy, Biggs reached out and lifted aside the picture hanging near the head of the bed, and there revealed the silver bell, fitted into a small aperture in the wall. Then, with a sob, he fell back into his chair.
"Hiram"—in a whisper—"after they bury me, you are to sleep in this bed."
With a cry, the old man threw out a horrified, expostulating hand. Catching it feverishly, the banker half raised himself in bed.
"Don't you understand?" he cried fiercely. "I may not be dead after all. Remember grandfather! And Biggs—if that bell rings, get help—quick!"
Suddenly releasing his hold, McMasters fell back limply among the pillows.
All through the long night the faithful Biggs maintained a sleepless vigil, but the banker lay as immovable as a stone. When the rosy-cheeked dawn came peeping audaciously through the casements, Biggs drew the heavy curtains tightly shut once more.
Not until the doctor's motor whirled away did the patient rouse from his lethargy.
Apparently strengthened by his deep stupor he spoke, and Biggs stood instantly beside him.
"What did the doctor say?"