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Chapter IV. A Diary Of The Dying
Whatgloriousrowsofhead-linestheymusthaveseenasalastvisionbeautiful,neverdestinedtomaterializeinprinter’sink!IcouldseeMacdonaamongthedoctors—"HopeinHarleyStreet"—Machadalwaysaweaknessforalliteration."InterviewwithMr.SoleyWilson.""FamousSpecialistsays’Neverdespair!’""OurSpecialCorrespondentfoundtheeminentscientistseatedupontheroof,whitherhehadretreatedtoavoidthecrowdofterrifiedpatientswhohadstormedhisdwelling.Withamannerwhichplainlyshowedhisappreciationoftheimmensegravityoftheoccasion,thecelebratedphysicianrefusedtoadmitthateveryavenueofhopehadbeenclosed."That’showMacwouldstart.ThentherewasBond;hewouldprobablydoSt.Paul’s.Hefanciedhisownliterarytouch.Myword,whatathemeforhim!"Standinginthelittlegalleryunderthedomeandlookingdownuponthatpackedmassofdespairinghumanity,grovelingatthislastinstantbeforeaPowerwhichtheyhadsopersistentlyignored,thererosetomyearsfromtheswayingcrowdsuchalowmoanofentreatyandterror,suchashudderingcryforhelptotheUnknown,that——"andsoforth.
Yes,itwouldbeagreatendforareporter,though,likemyself,hewoulddiewiththetreasuresstillunused.WhatwouldBondnotgive,poorchap,tosee"J.H.B."atthefootofacolumnlikethat?
ButwhatdrivelIamwriting!Itisjustanattempttopassthewearytime.Mrs.Challengerhasgonetotheinnerdressing-room,andtheProfessorsaysthatsheisasleep.
