“The patient does not respond to any of the ordinary methods of awakening. She would probably lie in this sleep for months, and death ensue from exhaustion, if stronger remedies are not used to restore the vital force to a normal condition.”

Livingston left the hospital; he could not return under an hour; Reuel took up his station by the bed whereon was stretched an apparently lifeless body, and the other doctors went the rounds of the wards attending to their regular routine of duty. The nurses gazed at him curiously; the head doctor, upon whom the young student’s earnestness and sincerity had evidently made an impression, came a number of times to the bare little room to gaze upon its silent occupants, but there was nothing new. When Livingston returned, the group again gathered about the iron cot where lay the patient.

“Gentlemen,” said Reuel, with quiet dignity, when they were once more assembled, “will you individually examine the patient once more and give your verdicts?”

Once more doctors and students carefully examined the inanimate figure in which the characteristics of death were still more pronounced. On the outskirts of the group hovered the house-surgeon’s assistants ready to transport the body to the operating room for the post-mortem. Again the head physician spoke, this time impatiently.

“We are wasting our time, Dr. Briggs; I pronounce the woman dead. She was past medical aid when brought here.”

“There is no physical damage, apparent or hidden, that you can see, Doctor?” questioned Reuel, respectfully.

“No; it is a perfectly healthful organism, though delicate. I agree entirely with your assertion that death was induced by the shock.”

“Not death, Doctor,” protested Briggs.

“Well, well, call it what you like—call it what you like, it amounts to the same in the end,” replied the doctor testily.

“Do you all concur in Doctor Hamilton’s diagnosis?” Briggs included all the physicians in his sweeping glance. There was a general assent.

“I am prepared to show you that in some cases of seeming death—or even death in reality—consciousness may be restored or the dead brought back to life. I have numberless times in the past six months restored consciousness to dogs and cats after rigor mortis had set in,” he declared calmly.

“Bosh!” broke from a leading surgeon. In this manner the astounding statement, made in all seriousness, was received by the group of scientists mingled with an astonishment that resembled stupidity. But in spite of their scoffs, the young student’s confident manner made a decided impression upon his listeners, unwilling as they were to be convinced.