“How?”
“Through your advertisement, of course.”
“But I haven’t inserted one for over three years.”
“Then all I can say is that the paper in which I read it was over three years old and not very big for its age. But that is a side issue; how much did he leave?”
“Have you no idea?”
“H’m, let me see. My brother and I were owners of an Arizona claim. We sold out on the . If he died on the of that year he must have had somewhere between eighty and ninety thousand concealed on his person.”
“What became of you?”
“We parted at Tucson. I went to San Francisco, where I took ship for Hong Kong, without, of course, suspecting that Humphery was to turn in his chips in Boston.”
“Why do you speak of Boston?”
“It was there he intended to go.”
“Mr. Anderson, I must admit that your answers coincide with the papers in my possession. At the same time I must exact some tangible evidence of your identity.”
“Thundering guns!” the little man shouted, “so you shall. There,” he continued, drawing from his pocket a wallet similar to the one with which Mr. Sisseton had been entrusted. “Here is a Cuban passport, and here are two of Humphery’s letters. Do you know his writing?”
The old clerk glanced at the letters. They began “My dear Brother,” and were signed Humphery Anderson. The handwriting was identical with that on the memoranda. Incontestibly the heir had appeared.
“You have established your identity without a doubt,” he replied. “There remains to me now but one thing to do, and that is—”
“To fork over.”
“To tell you how your brother died—”
“What’s the use? I don’t care a rap. Whether it was paresis or the grip, what difference does it make? He’s dead, isn’t he? Well, that’s the end of it.”
“But,” protested Mr. Sisseton, a trifle scandalized at this manifestation of fraternal indifference. “I must explain how the money came in my possession.”
“All right, but cut it short.”
“He died in my arms,” said Mr. Sisseton, very gravely. “He was killed in a railway accident.”
“The deuce you say. Thundering guns! I thought you were going to tell me he was lynched. Though he was my brother, I am free to admit he was a confounded bad lot.”
“And now,” the old clerk continued, “I will give you what he entrusted to me.”
Therewith he handed out the roll of bills, which the heir carefully counted.
“Eighty-seven thousand!” he exclaimed. “In six months I’m a millionaire. As for you, I won’t insult you with any recompense, particularly as the interest would satisfy anyone.”
“The interest, sir? What do you mean by that? Those bills are the very same ones I received from your brother.”
“And you want me to believe that you kept them all this time in a cubbyhole! Stuff and nonsense!”
“Sir,” Mr. Sisseton, with great dignity, retorted, “Sir, you forget there was nothing to prevent me from keeping them always.”
“By George, that’s true enough! Here, help yourself.”
“I will take one of them, for you owe it me. It’s a trifle less than the amount I paid for advertising. But not another penny.”
“You won’t?”
“No, sir, not a cent.”
In unfeigned astonishment the little man stared at his brother’s executor.
“You are an honest man,” he cried; “no, but hang me if you are not. I won’t forget you. I am going now to take a hack at the Street before the Board closes; but I won’t forget you, mind that.”
Followed by Mr. Sisseton, he opened the door and passed into the other room. Near the window Hugh and Jenny stood locked in each other’s arms. The little man turned and smiled.
“Makes one feel twenty years younger, doesn’t it?”
Already the lovers had separated. Hugh was scowling and the girl’s fair face was wet with tears.
“Mr. Hyrtl,” the old clerk began, “didn’t I tell you that everything was at an end. Didn’t—”
John Anderson, who had been tugging at his beard and grinning like a Cheshire cat, suddenly sprang back as though he trod on a serpent, his entire expression changed, and he grabbed Mr. Sisseton by the arm.
“What did you call that young man? Here,” he cried at Hugh, “is your name Hyrtl?”
“Certainly,” Hugh answered.
“Were you born near Richmond? Was your father a sailor? Was he lost at sea? Why don’t you answer? Thundering guns! are you dumb?”
“Not a bit; but I don’t understand your interest in my private affairs, nor yet your acquaintance with them. However, as I have no cause to make a mystery of my antecedents; I may say that I was born near Richmond, and that my father was lost at sea.”
“Torpedoes and dynamite! And whatever became of your mother? Did she—didn’t she—I mean—I mean what became of her?”
“She is dead,” Hugh answered. “Did you know her?”
“I? I never saw her in my life.”
“Well, then, what do you mean by—”
“What do I mean? What do I mean? I don’t know what I mean. I mean that in my travels I met a man named Hyrtl, and the name was so odd I never forgot it. That’s what I mean and nothing else, except that it’s infernally hot in here and I’m in a hurry.”
“No one is detaining you,” murmured Mr. Sisseton.
“I know that; but—but—see here, young man,” he continued, drawing from his pocket the roll of bills; “I have come into some money today that I didn’t expect, and, as you are going to be married, if three or four thousand are of any use to you, here they are.”
Hugh looked him from head to foot.
“Why do you make this offer?”
“Because I am your friend.”
“I have seen you but twice in my life.”
“Because I knew your father, then; because you did me a kindness; because—because—oh! hang it all, because I want to.”
“Thanks,” Hugh answered. “I am too poor to borrow and too proud to accept a gift. But I wish you would tell me why you spoke of my
