“‘J. H. Walter, the celebrated Serpent-man, will dispose of his skeleton upon his death for one thousand guineas, payable at once.’
“On the following day I received a visit from a celebrated surgeon. He made me undress, carefully examined [p254] my back, felt the vertebræ of my spine, then drawing out a pocket-book, he handed me a cheque for a thousand guineas without a word!
“Alas! my ill-luck still pursued me, and the money soon followed my wages.
“It is now eighteen months since I lost the last guinea of the surgeon’s money on the card-table. But if the treasure has gone, the contract still stands. In obedience to a formal clause in the agreement, I always travel with this. . . .”
The Serpent-man rose, went to his bed, and, stooping down, he drew a long, narrow oak box from under it. An [p255] address was painted in large black letters upon this queer violin-case—
DOCTOR
London.
The acrobat raised the lid, and I saw that the box was empty.