"Goodsmith," I demanded, "have you been troubled with bad dreams again and have you been weak enough to let it affect you in this manner?"
"Er, yes Jackson, I saw the same figure again and he reminded me, after inquiring if I had settled my mundane affairs, that he would come again Thursday morning."
"Of all the rubbish," I shouted, "and you a grown man almost forty years old, let such a thing upset you as if you were a child. Use your reason, Goodsmith. Consider the thing logically for what it is, a mere phantom of the mind and nothing more."
"Oh, but er-hem, it was really very vivid, Jackson and the words rang in my ears just as distinctly as your own now. I er-ah, know I was fully awake this time and hem, remember this was the second visitation."
His last words were said in a rather deprecating manner as though in apology for taking the matter so seriously and I felt rather bad toward myself for having spoken in such a rough tone.
"Well, well," I said rising, "take something for your liver and get out in the open; go out in the air and think no more of the matter. So cheer up, old man."
"Ah-er, yes Jackson, I dare say your advice is sensible, yes yes, quite the thing."
"I must be going," I exclaimed with a glance at my watch, "take good care of him, Miss Arabella and call Dr. Hobson. He is a cold, practical man and can possibly make Plato look at the thing in a rational light."
I felt unusually upset that day and showed it in the quality of my work which was not up to standard at all. I hurried home early and was met at the front door by Plato, who, without allowing me a word said, "Ah Jackson, may I have your presence in the study for a moment? I want you to perform a small service for me."
I followed him as requested and on entering the room found seated there lawyer Adams and Samuel Rugg, a neighbor, both of whom rose on our appearance.
"I merely wish you and Mr. Rugg to witness my will, Jackson. Mr. Adams has it ready for your signatures."
After the usual preliminaries this request was complied with and the two strangers departed.
"Er, Jackson, not a word of this to Arabella, mind. I ah, do not wish her to feel unnecessarily disturbed, you know."
"It goes without saying, old man, that I shall say nothing. But really now, have you let a miserable dream work on you to such an extent as this? I can not believe it."
"Oh ah, I merely wish to be prepared, Jackson, that is all. In case anything should happen tonight I have placed all my papers in order; my affairs will need no lawyer to untangle them."
"Tut, Goodsmith," I responded, "you talk like a man going to execution. Pull up and shake off such thoughts."
"Ah, Jackson," he replied mournfully, "possibly I feel like— But no more of this, let us join Arabella and remember, not a syllable of what has passed."
We found his sister seated in the library where we spent the rest of the evening talking of commonplace matters. Plato’s dream was mentioned once by her, but the subject seemed to affect him disagreeably so it was dropped. I attempted to get a few words with him alone before retiring, but he bid us both good night and retreated hastily to his room. I felt considerably worried over my friend's state of mind and it was several hours before I could sleep. However, I at last dropped off and awakened next morning at the usual time. I dressed hastily and hurried to the breakfast room, my first thought being of Plato. I felt somewhat relieved to find Miss Arabella seated calmly at the table preparing to pour the coffee, so I said nothing aside from my ordinary morning salutation. We had finished our repast when she suddenly exclaimed, "I wonder what can be detaining Plato. It is long past his hour for rising. Can he be ill?"
"I will see," I responded, hastily rising and going in the direction of his room. Upon reaching the door I knocked, at the same time calling, "Plato you are late. Is anything the matter?"
There was no answer and I was just preparing to repeat my summons when Miss Arabella, who had followed closely, brushed past me and opening the door hurried inside, exclaiming, "Brother! Brother! What is the matter? Are you—Oh!"
She stopped at the bedside and stood looking distractedly at her brother. He lay on his back, his hands crossed over his breast. The face was pale, while the half parted lips retained some color of life and the eyes, wide open, seemed to gaze abstractedly at the ceiling.
We both remained silent for some time, too stunned for action, then speaking with difficulty I exclaimed, "Oh, he surely can not be dead! Plato! Plato! Wake up, my dear friend! Come, rouse yourself!"
An answer came, low and solemn. It was the voice of Plato, but so changed. There was no movement of the lips and the sounds seemed as though issuing from a barrel or trumpet.
"I died this morning at three o'clock. The specter kept his word."
Miss Arabella, who had become very pale and trembled violently, completely lost consciousness at these ominous words and fell to the floor in a faint. I carried her to the library where I laid her on the lounge, then hastened to call Mrs. McGill from next door to care for her while I phoned Dr. Hobson. He soon arrived and I led him at once to Plato's room, rapidly explaining whgt had occurred from the first dream to the astounding assertion I had just listened to.
Dr. Hobson stopped at the bedside, gazing at the patient for a few seconds, then raised the right arm, fingering the wrist for pulse beats. He soon dropped it with a muttered exclamation and proceeded to make a thorough examination. He was busied in this way for possibly half an hour, then straightening up, looked to me with a wondering, puzzled expression, saying, "I can find absolutely no evidence of life, Mr. Jackson. There is no perceptible heart action and no sign of respiration. Yet the body can hardly be termed cold and the face and eyes certainly do not indicate death."
"At this moment the same hollow voice issued from the half open mouth of Goodsmith. "I died at three o'clock this morning. The specter kept his word."
"What can be the matter with him, Doctor?" I asked in an awed tone. "He certainly still lives though the spark of life seems very low."
Dr. Hobson remained silent for some time in deep thought, finally answering: "I am free to say it is the strangest case I ever saw. He seems to be in a hypnotic trance and in a state of almost suspended animation. I would like to call in Dr. James, if there is no objection; it may be necessary to resort to heroic measures you know. I want you to watch the patient closely until my return and at the first sign of recovery administer the restorative which I shall leave. I will return with Dr. James as quickly as possible." Leaving a small phial of colorless liquid, with directions for its
