This is a story by Graham Greene about a hypnotist, a man named Philip Weaver who has called Crashaw, the president of the local Skeptic Society, about an extraordinary, a really impressive experiment that he wants to describe to the Society. He had spoken at the Society before and been well received. But when he arrived at the meeting, Crashaw was shocked by his appearance. He looked like death warmed over. His appearance was cadaverous, his frame skeletal, his voice rasping, his handshake ice cold. He was obviously in no condition to be giving a lecture. What antagonized Crashaw even more was the white handkerchief that drooped from his breast pocked. It exhaled an odor as rich and sweet as a whole altar of lilies. Weaver begins his talk by saying, "This past year my attention has been drawn to the question of whether or not hypnosis could be induced in a dying person, and if so, to what extent, or for how long a period, the encroachments of Death might be arrested by the hypnotic state. Does the spirit have the power to sustain itself without the life of the body?" Weaver's speech deteriorates quickly and he becomes incoherent. In a shrill and frantic voice he proclaims he can give the Society "Proof positive," but before he can say what he has proof positive of, he dies. As shocking as this is, it is nothing compared to the shock that follows. What Weaver has proof positive of becomes apparent.
