Chapter 38

           "Ithinkmyleftsideisgoing,"WolfLarsenwrote,themorningafterhisattempttofiretheship."Thenumbnessisgrowing.Icanhardlymovemyhand.Youwillhavetospeaklouder.Thelastlinesaregoingdown."

           "Areyouinpain?"Iasked.

           Iwascompelledtorepeatmyquestionloudlybeforeheanswered:

           "Notallthetime."

           Thelefthandstumbledslowlyandpainfullyacrossthepaper,anditwaswithextremedifficultythatwedecipheredthescrawl.Itwaslikea"spiritmessage,"suchasaredeliveredatseancesofspiritualistsforadollaradmission.

           "ButIamstillhere,allhere,"thehandscrawledmoreslowlyandpainfullythanever.

           Thepencildropped,andwehadtoreplaceitinthehand.

           "WhenthereisnopainIhaveperfectpeaceandquiet.Ihaveneverthoughtsoclearly.IcanponderlifeanddeathlikeaHindoosage."

           "Andimmortality?"Maudqueriedloudlyintheear.

           Threetimesthehandessayedtowritebutfumbledhopelessly.Thepencilfell.Invainwetriedtoreplaceit.Thefingerscouldnotcloseonit.ThenMaudpressedandheldthefingersaboutthepencilwithherownhandandthehandwrote,inlargeletters,andsoslowlythattheminutestickedofftoeachletter:

           "B-O-S-H."

           ItwasWolfLarsen’slastword,"bosh,"scepticalandinvincibletotheend.Thearmandhandrelaxed.Thetrunkofthebodymovedslightly.Thentherewasnomovement.Maudreleasedthehand.Thefingersspreadslightly,fallingapartoftheirownweight,andthepencilrolledaway.

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