* * * * *

Dear Frederick,

It's no use. I left the sanatorium in the Harz and returned to my
parents' home a lost man. That cursed winter in the Heuscheuer Mountains!
After a stay in tropical countries, I should not have thrown myself into
the fangs of such a winter. Of course, the worst thing was my
predecessor's fur coat. To my predecessor's fur coat I owe my sweet fate.
May the devil in hell take special delight in burning it. I need scarcely
tell you that I gave myself copious injections of tuberculin and spat
a considerable number of bacilli. But enough remained behind to provide
me with a speedy _exitus letalis_.

Now for the essential. I must settle my bequests. I find I owe you three
thousand marks. You made it possible for me to complete my medical
studies. To be sure, they have failed me miserably. But that, of course,
you cannot help, and, curiously enough, now that all's lost, the thing
that most bothers me is the horrid thought that I cannot repay you.

My father, you know, is principal of a public school and actually managed
to save some money. But he has five children beside myself, all of whom
are unprovided for. He looked upon me as his capital which would bring
more than the usual rate of interest. Being a practical man, he now
realises he has lost both principal and interest.

In brief, he is afraid of responsibilities which unfortunately I cannot
shoulder in the better world to come--faugh, faugh, faugh!--I spit three
times. What shall I do? Would you be able to forego the payment of my
debt?