“Nothing, only this was her room; Rossie’s, you know. I am sure of it; she described it to me so often, and I feel as if she was here with us; I do, upon my soul. That’s her chair, where she used to sit, and these must be her books, and that’s her bed where she used to sleep. Let’s go away; it’s like a graveyard to me.”
He seemed so excited that his friend looked at him curiously, wondering if the glass of wine taken just before they left the hotel had affected his brain, or if it really was true that his grief for his sister was augmented by the sight of her old home, and the objects which had once made a part of her life.
“It’s not like John Matthewson to love any one like that. There’s a kink somewhere,” he thought, as he left the room and followed on through one apartment after another, until the whole had been gone through, and they went out into the open air, where the doctor seemed to be more at his ease. Taking off his hat and wiping his forehead, where the perspiration was standing, he said:
“This is a confounded hot night after all, or I am no judge of the weather, and this place in particular seems hotter than Tophet. I say, Walt, do you believe in ghosts, or haunted houses, or any of that sort of nonsense?”
“Of course not. Why do you ask?” Walter Klyne said; and the doctor replied:
“Because I was just nervous enough to fancy that the whole Forrest race, Rossie and all, were after me as I went over the lonesome old hut. Maybe they don’t like the idea of my being the heir, and that has brought them from their graves; but I feel better now, and I think we will be going, or the dinner will be cold.”
Early next morning the doctor interviewed Lawyer Russell, and at the close of the conference the doctor knew that as Rossie’s heir he was entitled to several hundred thousand dollars, some in lands and houses, some in bonds and mortgages, some in railroad shares and some in ready cash. The amount, so far exceeding what he had expected, surprised and delighted him, and inclined him to be very generously disposed toward Everard, with whom he had one long talk. He had taken all the necessary steps to prove that Rossie died at Haelder-Strauchsen, Austria, on the evening of April 20th; he had sworn to that effect before the lawful authority; and he was accepted by the public as the heir, though under protest, for there was no one in Rothsay who did not think it was a shame for Everard to be so defrauded of what ought always to have been his. This feeling the doctor perfectly understood, and it strengthened his resolution to be very generous toward the young man, to whom he offered half of the entire estate.
“Perhaps I ought to give you the whole,” he said, “but hanged if I can quite bring myself to that. You see, when a poor chap like me gets a little money it is mighty hard to give it up.”
“But I thought you had unlimited means in Europe,” Everard said; and without the slightest change of countenance the doctor replied:
“I did have something there, though not so much as Rossie supposed. I deceived her purposely, thinking she would feel easier if she believed me very rich. But unluckily the firm failed where most of my money was deposited, so that I am much poorer now than when I went from America more than a year ago.”