“What letter?” he asked.
“Didn't you dictate a letter to Norris last night?”
“No,” he answered, sadly.
“Have you any money?” I asked.
“I have made a little money out of an old investment in a copper-mine,” he answered, in a faint voice. “It has begun to pay, and they have sent me eighteen hundred dollars. There's eleven hundred left. It's in the Banca d'Italia. In my book you'll find a check for that two hundred dollars. It's on the bureau there.”
“You gave me that,” I said.
“Did I?” he whispered, and was sound asleep in a few seconds.
I returned to Mrs. Mullet, full of sober thought.
“Those letters are the voice of his soul,” I said. “It really wants to pay up and be honest.”
She saw my meaning and wept, and said, as soon as she could speak: