"Good old man!" exclaimed Whittingham, applying his snow-white handkerchief to his eyes.
"According to the French laws," continued Richard, "interments must take place within forty-eight hours after death. The funeral of Thomas Armstrong was humble and unostentatious as he desired. The physician and myself alone followed him to the tomb. I then inspected his papers; but found no will—no instructions how his property was to be disposed of; and yet I knew that he was possessed of ample means. Having liquidated his debts with a portion of the money I found in his desk, and which amounted to about a hundred pounds, I gave the remainder to an English charity at Boulogne. And now you are no doubt anxious to know the contents of that packet so mysteriously delivered to me. When I broke the seal of the envelope, I found a letter addressed thus:—'To my dear friend Richard Markham.' This letter was sealed. I then examined the envelope. You shall yourselves see what was written within it."
Markham took a paper from his pocket, and handed it to Monroe, who read its contents aloud as follows:—
"Richard, remember your solemn promise to a dying man; for when I write this, I know you will not refuse to give me that sacred pledge which I shall ask of you.
"When you are destitute of all resources—when adversity or a too generous heart shall have deprived you of all means of subsistence—and when your own exertions fail to supply your wants, open the enclosed letter.
"But should no circumstances of any kind deprive you of the little property which you now possess,—and should you not be plunged into a state of need from which your own talents or exertions cannot relieve you,—then shall you open this letter upon the morning of the 10th, of July, 1843, on which day you have told me that you are to meet your brother.
"These directions I charge you to observe faithfully and solemnly.
"THOMAS ARMSTRONG."
"How very extraordinary!" ejaculated Monroe. "Nevertheless, I have a presentiment that these mysterious instructions intend some eventual good to you, Richard."
"It's a fortin! a fortin! depend upon it," said the old butler.