. .
but I shall not see it." Abruptly he looked up, sat erect in his
chair and shook himself as if throwing off something that oppressed
him.
"Do you believe in premonition. Doctor? I know I shall find my death
here soon."
An indescribable shuddery sensation seemed to pass over me. I am by
no means sentimental or easily moved, nor am I overly superstitious;
but I have encountered one or two things in the course of my life
which cannot be explained by rule and line. Throwing off my sudden
strange mood, I told Verestshagin that his morbid fancies were due to
his still feverish condition, and the depressing effect of over-doses
of sulphate of quinine. He rose and smiled, and said:
"Of course you are right, Doctor."
Before parting, he gave me a little sketch of Port Arthur which I have
still. I keep it as a treasured memento of one of the few really good
men I have met, and one of the few from whom I had been able to part
without harming.
Verestshagin's premonition was fulfilled. He died--a hero's death,
going down with Admiral Marakoff on the flagship of the Russian
squadron six weeks later.
I remained at Port Arthur for another five weeks, and exactly seven
days before Togo's first night attack I received a cable from my
government. It was in cipher, of course, and I was ordered to leave
Port Arthur immediately and make my way home as there was danger of my
being bottled up at any minute.
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