New York. Claudius laid down the letter and sighed. His one relation had
not been much to him. He had no recollection even of the old gentleman's
appearance, but the regular correspondence had given him a feeling of
reliance, a sensation of not being absolutely alone. He was alone now.
Not a relation of any description in the world. Well, he would read the
remainder of the letter. He turned over the page.

"We enclose a copy of the will," the lawyer continued, "for your
inspection. You will see that Mr. Screw of our firm is appointed joint
executor with Mr. Silas B. Barker, and we await your further
instructions. In view of the large fortune you inherit," . . .

Claudius looked up suddenly and gazed blankly out of the window; then he
went on--

. . . "by the aforesaid will of your uncle, the late Mr. Gustavus
Lindstrand, it might be well if, at your convenience, you could pay a
visit to this country."

Here Claudius thought it was time to look at the will itself. Unfolding
the document, which was very short, he acquainted himself with the
contents. There were a few legacies to old servants, and one or two to
persons who were probably friends. Everything else was devised and
bequeathed "to my nephew, the son of my sister, Claudius,
_privat-docent_ in the University of Heidelberg, Grand Duchy of Baden,
Germany." And it appeared that the surplus, after deducting all legacies
and debts, amounted to about one million and a half of dollars.

Claudius carefully reread the papers without betraying the smallest
emotion. He then put them back in the envelope, and opening a small iron