troubled features.
"Another thing, Biggs, do you believe those stories about Jonah, andLazarus, and the fellow they let down through a hole in the roof to behealed?"
"I do, sir," with conviction.
"Do you understand how it was done?" testily.
"Of course not, sir, being only a human."
"Then tell me, Hiram, when you cannot see through it, how can youswallow all this theology?"
"My faith, sir," answered Biggs, simply, raising his eyes withreverence.
At this, a quizzical smile came over the sick man's face.
"In looking up, Hiram, don't forget, since it is twelve-thirty, that wehave swung around four hundred and eighty miles from the spot youoriginally designated as the location of the Pearly Gates."
"Oh, sir, I beg of you," remonstrated the servant, "I cannot bear tohave you jest on such a--why, master!" he broke off with a little cry,rushing to his bedside.
The quizzical smile on the banker's face had suddenly faded, and hishead had fallen feebly back upon the pillow.
"Oh, why did he waste his strength so?" cried Biggs, piteously, as withtrembling hands and tear-blurred eyes he searched the little table forthe smelling-salts.
After a few breaths, the patient sighed and opened his eyes wearily.
"My medicine, Hiram, and then I must rest."
* * * * *
At midnight, Biggs, dozing in a big chair by the fire, was aroused by avoice from the sick bed.
"Hiram."
"Yes, sir," scurrying to turn on a subdued light.
"Where is heaven now?"
Noting the wan flicker of a smile, the old servant pointed solemnlydownward.
"You are a bright pupil," came in a scarcely audible voice.
"Thank you, sir."
"Do you know, Biggs, I wish I had led a different--a better life."
"You have been a good master, sir. You have been kind, you have givenliberally to charity," Biggs defended him.
"Yes," cynically, "I have given liberally to charity. But it has been nosacrifice."
"You have been a pillar in the church," ventured Biggs.
"Yes," bitterly, "a stone pillar. I have paid handsomely for my pew, andslept peacefully through the sermons. I have bought baskets of food forthe poor at Thanksgiving and Christmas time, only to let others reap thehappiness of giving them away. I could have had so much joy out ofChristmas, if I would. I could have been a jolly, rosy-cheeked SantaClaus and gone to a hundred homes, my arms loaded with gifts."
"True, sir, but you made that joy possible for others."
"When I should have known the thrill of it myself. I have not reallylived, Hiram. To draw the sweets truly out of life, one must humblehimself and serve his fellow men. Yes, the scales have fallen from myeyes, Hiram. But it is too late, 'the spirit is willing but the flesh isweak'."
"It doesn't seem right, sir," said Biggs after a pause.
"What's that, Hiram?"
"Why, sir, that you should be stricken down in the prime of life, justat a time when you could mean so much to others, while I, old anduseless, am permitted to live on. But I am not finding fault withProvidence, sir," Biggs hastened to say; "I just can't find the meaningof the riddle, sir."
"Probably I've had my chance and fumbled it, Biggs."
"Even so, sir, God is not vindictive, according to my ideas. Theresurely is some other solution. I'm still going to pray that He will takeme in your stead, even if a miracle must be performed."
"So you have faith in your prayers, do you, Biggs?"
"Yes, sir, if they are unselfish prayers."
"That brand is rather scarce, I take it," answered McMasters, but histone was reflective rather than sarcastic.
"Oh, sir, I wish you would pray as I do. God would surely understand."
"Rather a queer request, Hiram. If my life depends upon your death noprayer shall ever pass my lips."
"But, sir, I'm an old----"
"However," interrupted McMasters, "I shall pray that if my life isspared in any other fashion, I will make full amends for my years ofindifference and neglect. And, Hiram, no one knows how much I truly seekthis divine dispensation. But I have always scoffed at death-bedconfessions, and so my heart grows cold, for I have no right toask--now." Again, wearily, "No right--now."
"Ah, master, God is plenteous in mercy. If you but have the faith, sir,it shall make you whole."
"Very good, had I lived as you have lived, Biggs." Then, after a pause,"Still, the cause is worthy, my heart is right and I shall approach theThrone. May God be merciful unto me, a sinner."
"I hope it is not too late yet," faltered Biggs. "Oh, if God would onlycall me in your stead, that you might still do the good work that youfind it in your heart to do, how gladly would I go."
A deep sigh was his only answer.
* * * * *
A long silence was finally broken by the sick man. But when he spoke,his voice was so strange and uncanny that the servant hastened close andpeered anxiously into the fever-flushed face of the sufferer.
"Hiram--I must tell you--a secret," came in a laborious, almostsepulchral, whisper.
Biggs came closer.
"Bring a chair and sit down. I must talk to you."
As the old servant again leaned forward, the sufferer hesitated; thenwith an obvious effort he began.
"Hiram, I am going to give you some instructions which you must obey tothe letter. Will you promise to keep them?"
"I swear it, sir," with great earnestness.
"Good! Now, if this fever seals my lips and the doctor pronounces medead----"
"Please, sir," Biggs broke in, tears streaming down his furrowed cheeks,but his master continued in the same subdued voice, "Whatever happens, Iam not to be embalmed--do you hear me?--not embalmed, but just laid awayas I am now."
"Yes, sir," in a choked voice, which fully betrayed the breaking heartbehind it.
"And now, Hiram, the rest of the secret." He paused and beckoned Biggsto lean closer.
"In my vault--in the mausoleum, I have had an electric button installed.That button connects with a silver bell. Lift up that small picture ofNapoleon, there upon the wall."
His hands trembling as with the palsy, Biggs reached out and liftedaside the picture hanging near the head of the bed, and there revealedthe silver bell, fitted into a small aperture in the wall. Then, with asob, he fell back into his chair.
"Hiram"--in a whisper--"after they bury me, you are to sleep in thisbed."
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 thepillows.
* * * * *
All through the long night the faithful Biggs maintained a sleeplessvigil, but the banker lay as immovable as a stone. When the rosy-cheekeddawn came peeping audaciously through the casements, Biggs drew theheavy curtains tightly shut once more.
Not until the doctor's motor whirled away did the patient rouse from hislethargy.
Apparently strengthened by his deep stupor he spoke, and Biggs stoodinstantly beside him.
"What did the doctor say?"
Biggs hesitated.
"Out with it, I'm no chicken-hearted weakling."
"Nothing much," admitted Biggs, sadly. "He only shook his head verygravely."
"He doesn't understand this family malady any more than the old quackwho allowed my grandfather to be buried alive," said McMasters almostfiercely.
Biggs shuddered and put a trembling hand to his eyes.
"What ails me, Biggs?" almost plaintively. "No one knows. This fever hasbaffled the scientists for years. When you fall into a comatosecondition they call it suspended animation. That's the best thing th
eydo--find names for diseases. My family doctor doesn't have any more ofan idea about this malady than you or I. The average physician is just aguesser. He guesses you have a fever and prescribes a remedy, hopingthat it will hit the spot. If it doesn't he looks wise, wags hishead--and tries something else on you. Maybe it works and maybe itdoesn't. The only thing my guesser is absolutely sure of is that if Ilive or if I die, he will collect a princely fee for his services."
Biggs remained statuesque during the pause.
"Gad," McMasters broke out again testily, "if I fiddled around in mybusiness like that I'd be a pauper in a