Explore "Raspberry Jam" by Carolyn Wells on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"I have never been so mystified in all my life! " Dr. Harper spoke in a perplexed, worried way, and a puzzled frown drew his shaggy eyebrows together. Though the family physician of most of the tenants of the large, up-to-date apartment house, he was of the old school type and had the kindly, sociable ways of a smalltown practitioner.
"I know Sanford Embury, bone, blood and muscle," he said; "I've not only been his physician for two years, but I've examined him, watched him and kept him in pink of condition for his athletic work. If I hadn't looked after him, he might have overdone his athletics -- but he didn't -- he used judgment, and was more than willing to follow my advice. Result -- he was in the most perfect possible physical shape in every particular! He could no more have had a stroke of apoplexy or paralysis than a young oak tree could! And there's no indication of such a thing, either. A man can't die of a stroke of any sort without showing certain symptoms. None of these are present -- there's nothing present to hint the cause of his death. There's no cut, scratch or mark of any description; there's no suggestion of strangulation or heart failure -- well, it's the strangest thing I ever ran up against in all my years of practice!"