I'll make you heir of my expectations! Write out a declaration to
that effect: I can sign my name; and he'll be witness."
I did as he directed, and having explained to the surgeon the nature of
the document, I put the pen in Paton's hand; but was obliged to guide
his hand with my own in order to make an intelligible signature. The
surgeon signed below, and Paton seemed satisfied. He closed his eyes;
his sufferings appeared to be very slight. But, even while I was
looking at him, a change came over his face--a deadly change. His eyes
opened; they were no longer bright, but sunken and dull. He gave me a
dusky look--whether of rage, of fear, or of entreaty, I could not tell.
His lips parted, and a voice made itself audible; not like his own
voice, but husky and discordant. "I'm going," it said. "But look out
for me.... Do it yourself!"
"Der Herr ist todt" (the man is dead), said the surgeon the next
minute.
It was true. Paton had gone out of this life at an hour's warning. What
purpose or desire his last words indicated, there was nothing to show.
He was dead; and yet I could hardly believe that it was so.
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