The gentleman was there. He was sitting fully dressed at the table in the room. In front of him was a letter which he had been writing; but his head was down on the table, as if he had fallen asleep writing it.
The landlord went up to him and touched him on the shoulder. Then he started back, with an exclamation of horror.
The poor gentleman was dead.
He had evidently died as he was writing the letter; but he looked for all the world as if he was sleeping peacefully.
My master saw the letter, and read it.
It was this:—
“My dear Mary,
This will, I think, reach you only just before I arrive. I am counting the hours, my darling, till I see you and the children again. You will be so pleased to see how well and strong I look. Oh, how I long to be home once more! It is the longest parting we have had, dear, since God gave you to me for my wife; but it will soon be over now. I shall post this letter to-morrow early. I find that the train I shall come by arrives at 4.30 in the afternoon. So at five, my darling, all being well, you may expect to see me. I should like——”
And there the letter ended. The last three words were written differently to the others. There must have been a sudden trembling of the hand, a mist before the eyes, perhaps, and then the pen dropped where it was found—on the floor. And the poor gentleman fell forward and died—died just as he was thinking of the happy meeting with his wife and little ones, and bidding them be ready to welcome him.
Of course, the doctor was sent for, and there had to be an inquest. The doctor said that it was heart disease, and that the gentleman had died in a moment.