The evil was greater than I thought at the time.

It takes less to kill a diseased man than a sound one." "Then my death will be due to my disease and not to my wound, if it would not have killed a sound man," cried Lot, eagerly.
"I tell you, your death will be due to that wound that Madelon Hautville, with maybe your cousin at her back, gave you." Lot's face glared white at the doctor.

"I gave the wound to myself!" The doctor laughed.
"I tell you, I gave the wound myself!" "Take your wound into court, and see what they say." "What do you mean ?" "I'll give any man who will stab himself in just the same place, with the knife held in just the same way, every dollar I have in the world." "You can't prove it." "I can prove it." "I can do away with your proof," said Lot, in a strange voice.

The doctor looked at him sharply.
"Then you will not sign this paper ?" Lot said, presently.
"No, I will not; and I tell you, once for all, when you die I make out my certificate as it should be." "How ?" "By a wound from a knife or other sharp instrument, inflicted by a person or persons unknown." Lot's face, towards the doctor, looked as if death had already struck it; but he spoke firmly.

"How long will it be, first ?" he asked.
"I don't know." "Approximate." "A false step may do it." "I can lie still!" "A coughing-spell may do it." "I will not cough!" "More than that, a thought may do it, if it stirs your heart too much.