In the morning, inquiry was made after their sick friend. He had died as nearly as possible about the time of his appearing at the club. There was scarcely room for doubt before, but now there was absolute certainty of the reality of the apparition.
The story spread over the country, and was so well attested as to obtain general belief; for, in this ca⟨s⟩e, the fact was attested by three-and-twenty credible eye-witnesses, all of them living.
Several years had elapsed, and the story had ceased to engage attention, and was almost forgotten, when one of the club, who was an apothecary, in the course of his practice attended an old woman, who gained her living by nursing sick persons. She was now ill herself, and finding her end near at hand, she told the apothecary she could leave the world with a good conscience, except for one thing which lay on her mind.—"Do not you remember," she said, "the poor gentleman whose ghost has been so much talked of? I was his nurse. The night he died I left the room for something I wanted—I am sure I had not been absent long; but, at my return, I found the bed without my patient. I knew he was delirious, and I feared that he had thrown himself out of the window. I was so frightened that I had no power to stir: but after some time, to my great astonishment, he came back shivering, and laid down on the bed, and died. Considering I had done wrong by leaving him, I kept it a secret that he had left the room; and
