CHAPTER LVII 
THE DEATH OF SIR TOM 
At 7.30 on the morning of March 16, Dr. 
High telephoned me that Sir Thomas O’Hara 
was seriously ill, and asked me to come at once. 
It took but a few minutes to have Jerry at the 
door, and, breasting a cold, thin rain at a sharp ~ 
gallop, I was at my friend’s door before the 
clock struck eight. Dr. High met me with a 
heavy face. 
«Sir Tom is bad,” said he, “ with double 
pneumonia, and I am awfully afraid it will go 
hard with him.” 
I remembered that my friend’s pale face had 
looked a shade paler than usual the evening be- 
fore, and that there had been a pinched expres- 
sion around the nose and mouth, as if from pain ; 
but Sir Tom had many twinges from his old 
enemy, gout, which he did not care to discuss, 
and I took little note of his lack of fitness. He 
touched the brandy bottle a little oftener than 
usual, and left for home earlier; but his voice 
was as cheery as ever, and we thought only of 
gout. He was taken with a hard chill on his 
way home, which lasted for some time after he 
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