“Oh, the whole seventy-five wasn't his, of course. Half belonged to his partner. But the poor devil didn't live to enjoy it. After the articles were signed and before the money was paid over, he was taken sick with a fever and died.”
“Hey? He died? With a FEVER?”
“Yes. But he left a pretty good legacy to his heirs, didn't he. For a common sailor—or second mate; I believe that's what he was—thirty-seven thousand five hundred is doing well. It must have come as a big surprise to them. The whole sum was paid to Atkins, who—What's the matter with you?”
Captain Cy was leaning back in his chair. He was as white as the tablecloth.
“Are you ill?” asked the congressman anxiously. “Take some water. Shall I call—”
The captain waved his hand.
“No, no!” he stammered. “No! I'm all right. Do you—for the Lord's sake tell me this! What was the name of this partner that died?”
Mr. Everdean looked curiously at his friend before he answered.
“Sure you're not sick?” he asked. “Well, all right. The partner's name? Why, I've heard it often enough. It's on the deed of sale that father has framed in his room at home. The old gentleman is as proud of that as anything in the house. The name was—was—”
“For God sakes,” cried Captain Cy, “don't say 'twas John Thayer! 'Cause if you do I shan't believe it.”