And he felt certain of this a moment later, when the stranger suddenly leaned forward, clutching him with redoubled intensity, and staring at him with wide, horror-stricken eyes.

“Do you know what it means to be afraid of death?” he panted.  “Do you know what it means to be afraid of death?”

Then, without waiting for a reply, he rushed on—­“No, no!  You can’t! you can’t!  I don’t believe any man knows it as I do!  Think of it—­for ten years I’ve never known a minute when I wasn’t afraid of death!  It follows me around—­it won’t let me be!  It leaps out at me in places, like this!  And when I escape it, I can hear it laughing at me—­for it knows I can’t get away!”

The old man caught his breath with a choking sob.  He was clinging to Montague like a frightened child, and staring with a wild, hunted look upon his face.  Montague sat transfixed.

“Yes,” the other rushed on, “that’s the truth, as God hears me!  And it’s the first time I’ve ever spoken it in my life!  I have to hide it—­because men would laugh at me—­they pretend they’re not afraid!  But I lie awake all night, and it’s like a fiend that sits by my bedside!  I lie and listen to my own heart—­I feel it beating, and I think how weak it is, and what thin walls it has, and what a wretched, helpless thing it is to have your life depend on that!—­You don’t know what that is, I suppose.”

Montague shook his head.

“You’re young, you see,” said the other.  “You have health—­everybody has health, except me!  And everybody hates me—­I haven’t got a friend in the world!”

Montague was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this outburst.  He tried to stop it, for he felt almost indecent in listening—­it was not fair to take a man off his guard like this.  But the stranger could not be stopped—­he was completely unstrung, and his voice grew louder and louder.

“It’s every word of it true,” he exclaimed wildly.  “And I can’t stand it any more.  I can’t stand anything any more.  I was young and strong once—­I could take care of myself; and I said:  I’ll make money, I’ll be master of other men!  But I was a fool—­I forgot my health.  And now all the money on earth can’t do me any good!  I’d give ten million dollars to-day for a body like any other man’s—­and this—­this is what I have!”

He struck his hands against his bosom.  “Look at it!” he cried, hysterically.  “This is what I’ve got to live in!  It won’t digest any food, and I can’t keep it warm—­there’s nothing right with it!  How would you like to lie awake at night and say to yourself that your teeth were decaying and you couldn’t help it—­your hair was falling out, and nobody could stop it?  You’re old and worn out—­falling to pieces; and everybody hates you—­everybody’s waiting for you to die, so that they can get you out of the way.  The doctors come, and they’re all humbugs!  They shake their heads and use long words—­they know they can’t do you any good, but they want their big fees!  And all they do is to frighten you worse, and make you sicker than ever!”