“Take your wound into court, and see what they say.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'll give any man who will stab himself in just the same place, with the knife held in just the same way, every dollar I have in the world.”
“You can't prove it.”
“I can prove it.”
“I can do away with your proof,” said Lot, in a strange voice. The doctor looked at him sharply.
“Then you will not sign this paper?” Lot said, presently.
“No, I will not; and I tell you, once for all, when you die I make out my certificate as it should be.”
“How?”
“By a wound from a knife or other sharp instrument, inflicted by a person or persons unknown.”