The words were undoubtedly in my uncle's handwriting. The back of the card was covered with strange characters in red ink. I tore the card as directed and handed the man the right half.
He held it up to the light and examined it carefully, then put it away in a pocket of his overcoat. The look of pain returned to his face, and he coughed feebly, as if suffering from a severe cold. As it was getting late, I indicated, by pantomime, that I was offering to help him get to my bed. He understood me well enough and began feebly to remove his clothing, while I prepared a sofa for myself. He was soon sound asleep, but I lay awake long after I turned out the light. He was obviously quite ill, and I determined to go for a physician as soon as it got light. Once we were through there, I would go with him to my uncle. There were no ties here to prevent me from leaving, and it was clearly my duty to go with him. Perhaps my uncle was in some great danger. If so, I might be of service to him.
When I arose in the morning, my strange lodger seemed to be sleeping quietly. His face looked pale and ghastly in the light of day. I stepped close to his bed and, laying my hand upon his forehead, I was horrified to discover that he was dead.
