his direct descendants being dead) he might have been content to select his heir; but the old German prejudices in these matters are strong, and he still hoped to be represented on his decease by a son of his own.  To this whim the charming Ottilie was marked by her parents as the victim.  The wedding, however, had been postponed owing to a slight illness of the veteran scientist, and just as he was on the point of final recovery from it, death intervened to prevent altogether the execution of his design.  Never did death of man create a profounder sensation; never was death of man followed by consequences more terrible.  The Residenz of the scientist was a stately mansion near the University in the Unter den Linden boulevard, that is to say, in the most fashionable Quartier of Berlin.  His bedroom from a considerable height looked out on a small back garden, and in this room he had been engaged in conversation with his colleague and medical attendant, Dr. Johann Hofmeier, to a late hour of the night.  During all this time he seemed cheerful, and spoke quite lucidly on various topics.  In particular, he exhibited to his colleague a curious strip of what looked like ancient papyrus, on which were traced certain grotesque and apparently meaningless figures.  This, he said, he had found some days before on the bed of a poor woman in one of the horribly low quarters that surround Berlin, on whom he had had occasion to make a post-mortem examination.  The woman had suffered from partial paralysis.  She had a small young family, none of whom, however, could give any account of the slip, except one little girl, who declared that she had taken it ‘from her mother’s mouth’ after death.  The slip was soiled, and had a fragrant smell, as though it had been smeared with honey.  The professor added that all through his illness he had been employing himself by examining these figures.  He was convinced, he said, that they contained some archaeological significance; but, in any case, he ceased not to ask himself how came a slip of papyrus to be found in such a situation,—­on the bed of a dead Berlinerin of the poorest class?  The story of its being taken from the mouth of the woman was, of course, unbelievable.  The whole incident seemed to puzzle, while it amused him; seemed to appeal to the instinct—­so strong in him—­to investigate, to probe.  For days, he declared, he had been endeavouring, in vain, to make anything of the figures.  Dr. Hofmeier, too, examined the slip, but inclined to believe that the figures—­rude and uncouth as they were—­were only such as might be drawn by any school-boy in an idle moment.  They consisted merely of a man and a woman seated on a bench, with what looked like an ornamental border running round them.  After a pleasant evening’s scientific gossip, Dr. Hofmeier, a little after midnight, took his departure from the bed-side.  An hour later the servants were roused from sleep by one deep, raucous cry proceeding from