I read steadily until about five o'clock, and J. P. listened
attentively, interrupting me from time to time with a direction to go
back and read over a passage.
About half-past five he began to suffer severely, and he sent for the
yacht's doctor, who did what was possible for him. At a few minutes
after six J. P. said: "Now, Mr. Ireland, you'd better go and get some
sleep; we will finish that this afternoon. Good-bye, I'm much obliged to
you. Ask Mr. Mann to come to me. Go, now, and have a good rest, and
forget all about me."
I slept till noon. When I came on deck I found that everything was going
on much as usual. One of the secretaries was with J. P.; the others were
at work over the day's papers.
At lunch we spoke of J. P. One man said that he seemed a little worse
than usual, another that he had seen him much worse a score of times.
Suddenly the massive door at the forward end of the saloon opened. I
turned in my seat and saw framed in the doorway the towering figure of
the head butler. I faced his impassive glance, and received the full
shock of his calm but incredible announcement: "Mr. Pulitzer is dead."
THE END
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, AN ADVENTURE WITH A GENIUS ***
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