“Singular,” murmured Jeff, whose thoughts seemed to be engaged with some far-off prospect.
“He goes on,” continued the captain, reading: “‘I am left the sole executor of his affairs. Pray, therefore, write as to what you wish done. I am not at present conversant with the precise duties of an executor, but of course I will get the best advice possible in the circumstances, and do the best I can. I would recommend you to do the same at your end of the world, and let me have your instructions as soon as possible. The enclosed statement will show you the nature of your property. The greater part, you will observe, is in hard cash. I may add that the house and grounds here would sell well at present, if you feel inclined to dispose of them.
“‘In conclusion, allow me to congratulate you on this piece of good fortune—perhaps, knowing your character so well, I should have written, this good gift from God.’”
“Ay, my friend,” said the captain, folding the letter, “you might have written, ‘this unexpected and undeserved gift from God.’ But now, Molly, what think ye of it all?”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed the good lady in reply; and beyond this word she seemed unable to go for a time, save that, after a strong mental effort, she varied it to “amazing!” Suddenly she seemed to recover, and said with a quick, earnest look—
“Dick, what are you going to do?”
“Do?” exclaimed Captain Millet, smiting his knee and looking from his sister to Jeff with a broad smile. “I’ll run up to London, an’ take a mansion in the West End, call at Long Acre in passing, and buy a carriage and four. Then I’ll run down to Folkestone an’ buy a villa there, or a castle if they have one in stock; if not, I’ll order one o’ the newest pattern, with gas, water, electricity, and steam laid on. After that I’ll buy a steam-yacht and take a trip round the world, so as to calm my brain and think over it. Of course I’ll drop in at Hong Kong, in passing, to have a look at my property; and then—”
“Hush, brother! don’t run on with such nonsense when we ought to be only filled with serious thoughts.”
“How can a man be filled with serious thoughts, Molly, when a sort of Arabian Nights’ affair has tumbled on him all of a sudden—took him aback like a white squall, and thrown him on his beam-ends?”
“And what a selfish fellow you are, too!” said Jeff; “not one word in all you propose to do about anybody except yourself—no mention even of Rosebud.”