Then, with a
sob, he fell back into his chair. "Hiram"--in a whisper--"after they bury me, you are to sleep in this
bed." 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 the
pillows. *       *       *       *       *

All through the long night the faithful Biggs maintained a sleepless
vigil, but the banker lay as immovable as a stone. When the rosy-cheeked
dawn came peeping audaciously through the casements, Biggs drew the
heavy curtains tightly shut once more. Not until the doctor's motor whirled away did the patient rouse from his
lethargy. Apparently strengthened by his deep stupor he spoke, and Biggs stood
instantly 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 very
gravely." "He doesn't understand this family malady any more than the old quack
who allowed my grandfather to be buried alive," said McMasters almost
fiercely. Biggs shuddered and put a trembling hand to his eyes. "What ails me, Biggs?" almost plaintively. "No one knows. This fever has
baffled the scientists for years. When you fall into a comatose
condition they call it suspended animation. That's the best thing they
do--find names for diseases. My family doctor doesn't have any more of
an idea about this malady than you or I. The average physician is just a
guesser. He guesses you have a fever and prescribes a remedy, hoping
that it will hit the spot. If it doesn't he looks wise, wags his
head--and tries something else on you. Maybe it works and maybe it
doesn't. The only thing my guesser is absolutely sure of is that if I
live 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 my
business like that I'd be a pauper in a month." "But the doctor says you're coming on," ventured Biggs. "Sure he does," answered the banker with a sneer. "That's his stock in
trade. I know that line of palaver. Secretly, he knows I am as liable to
be dead as alive when he comes again." "Oh, sir, you aren't going to die!" "That's what I'm afraid of, Biggs. But they'll call me dead and go ahead
and embalm me and make sure of it." "Oh, sir, I wish----"

"Now remember, Biggs," broke in the sick man, "shoot the first
undertaker that tries to put that mummy stuff in my veins." "I understand perfectly, sir," answered Biggs, fearful lest the other's
excitement might again give him a turn for the worse. "I know I'm apparently going to pass away. My father and grandfather
both had this cussed virus in their veins, and I don't believe either of
them was dead when he was pronounced so!" "Well, if by any chance--that is, if you," began Biggs desperately, "if
you are apparently--dead--why not have them keep your body here in the
house for a time?" "Convention, formality, custom, hide-bound law!" the banker fairly
frothed. "The health authorities would come here with an army and see
that I was buried. No, Biggs, I've got a fine crypt out there, all quiet
and secure, good ventilation, electric lights, like a pullman berth--and
a push-button. That precludes all notoriety. It's secret and safe. The
electrician who installed the apparatus died four years ago. So you and
I, alone, possess this knowledge." "Don't you think someone else should know of it too? Your attorney,
or----"

"No, Biggs. If I really am dead I don't want anyone to write up my
eccentricities for some Sunday magazine sheet. And if I do come back,
then it will be time to tell the gaping public about my cleverness." "I wish you weren't so--so cold-blooded about it all, sir." "I have always hit straight from the shoulder, Hiram, and I'm facing
this death business as I'd face any other proposition. I'm not ready to
cash in, and if I can cheat the doctors, undertakers, lawyers, heirs,
and chief mourners for a few more years, I'm going to do it. And don't
forget poor old granddad. He might have been up and about yet had he but
used my scheme." *       *       *       *       *

Biggs turned away, sick at heart. It was too terrible beyond words. To
him his religion was as essential as daily bread. Death was the
culmination of cherished belief and constant prayer. As his years
declined he had faced the inevitable day with simple faith that when the
summons came he would go gladly, like him "who wraps the drapery of his
couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams." With throbbing heart
he listened for another torrent of words that would still further stab
his sensitive soul; for he had loved and revered his master from his
youth up. But no words came. He wheeled about. The massive head had fallen limply
among the pillows. Pallid lips were trying to form sentences without
result. Then the great body seemed to subside immeasurably deeper into
the covers and a death-like stillness fell upon the room. Intuitively feeling that his master was worse than at any previous
relapse, Biggs made every effort to revive him, gently at first, and
then by vigorously shaking and calling to him in a heart-broken, piteous
voice. But to no avail. The heavy figure looked pallid and corpse-like
under the snowy sheets. Long hours dragged by, and still the lonely old servant sat mutely
beside the bed, only aroused, at last, by the peremptory, measured call
of the telephone bell. "Yes," said Biggs in a quavering voice. "Oh yes, Doctor Meredith,
Master's resting easy. Don't think you'll need to come until tomorrow." "I'll keep them away as long as I can," he muttered, as he slipped back
to his vigil. "God grant--maybe he'll come back--and take up the work of
the Master, so long delayed. Oh God! If Thou wouldst only take me in his
stead!" Sleeping fitfully, Biggs sat dumbly through an interminable night, but
the new day brought no reassuring sign from the inert form. The
stillness was appalling. The other servants were quartered in a distant
part of the mansion and only came when summoned. Again Biggs assured the
physician that he could gain nothing by calling, and another awful night
found him, ashen and distraught, at the bedside. Sometime in the still
watches he swooned and kindly nature patched up his shredded nerves,
before consciousness once more aroused him. But the strain was more than
he could bear. So when the anxious specialist came, unbidden, he found a
shattered old watchman who broke down completely and babbled forth the
whole mysterious tale, concealing nothing but the secret of the tomb.