"I sent for him yesterday, to consult about his affairs," he observed gently. "It is a pity for her to lose that Santa Ma. She will need it now. I'm sorry for her. I don't know how he left her, exactly. He did a tremendous business, but he spent as he went. He was a good fellow--I always liked the doctor! Terrible affair! Terrible affair! Jason! Where is that advertisement of Grope County Iowa Mortgage? You have filed it in the wrong place! Be more careful in future." ..."_Mr. Brake!_" I tried once more; and my voice was the voice of mortal anguish to my own appalled and ringing ear. "Do you not hear? Can you not see? Is there _no one_ in this place who hears? Or sees me, _either_?" An early customer had strayed in; Drayton was there; and the watchman had entered. The men (there were five in all) collected by the broker's desk, around the morning papers, and spoke to each other with the familiarity which bad news of any public interest creates. They conversed in low tones. Their faces wore a shocked expression. They spoke of me; they asked for more particulars of the tragedy reported by the morning press; they mentioned my merits and defects, but said more about merits than defects, in the merciful, foolish way of people who discuss the newly dead. "I've known him ten years," said the broker. "I've had the pleasure of the doctor's acquaintance myself a good while," said the inspector politely. "Wasn't he a quick-tempered man?" asked the customer. "He cured a baby of mine of the croup," said the watchman. "It was given up for dead. And he only charged me a dollar and a half. He was very kind to the little chap." "He set an ankle for me, once, after a football match," suggested the clerk. "I wouldn't ask to be better treated. He wasn't a bit rough." ..."Gentlemen," I entreated, stretching out my hands toward the group, "there is some mistake--I must make it understood. I am here. It is I, Dr. Thorne; Dr. Esmerald Thorne. I am in this office. Gentlemen! Listen to me! Look at me! Look in this direction! For God's sake, _try_ to see me--some of you!"... "He drove too fast a horse," said the customer. "He always has." "I must answer Mrs. Thorne's message," said the broker sadly, rising and pushing back the office chair. ...I shrank, and tried no more. I bowed my head, and said no other word. The truth, incredible and terrible though it were, the truth which neither flesh nor spirit can escape, had now forced itself upon my consciousness. I looked across the broker's office at those five warm human beings as if I had looked across the width of the breathing world. Naught had I now to say to them; naught could they communicate to me. Language was not between us, nor speech, nor any sign. Need of mine could reach them not, nor any of their kind. For I was in the dead, and they the living men. ..."Here is your dog, sir," said Jason. "He has followed you in. He is trying to speak to you, in his way."