Moreover, Dr. Claudius had but an indifferent appreciation of the value of money; partly because he had never cared for what it would buy, and had therefore never examined its purchasing power, and partly because he had never lived intimately with people who spent a great deal.  He knew nothing of business, and had never gambled, and he did not conceive that the combination of the two could be of any interest.  Compared with the questions that had occupied his mind of late, it seemed to make no more difference whether a man were rich or poor than whether he had light hair or dark.  And if he had seriously asked himself whether even those great problems which had occupied the minds of the mightiest thinkers led to any result of importance, it was not likely that he would bestow a thought on such a trivial matter as the question of pounds, shillings, and pence.

So, before he went to bed, he took out a sheet of paper and an envelope—­he never bought but one package of envelopes a year, when he sent his New Year’s card to the other doctors of the University—­and wrote a short letter to Messrs. Screw and Scratch of Pine Street, New York.  He acknowledged the receipt of their communication, deplored the death of his only relation, and requested that they would look after his money for him, as he had no use whatever for it at present.  He objected, he said, to signing a power of attorney as yet, for as there was no hurry they might consult him by letter or telegraph as often as they liked.  When Messrs. Screw and Scratch read this epistle they opened their eyes wide, wondering what manner of man Claudius, Phil.D., might be.  And it took them some time to find out.  But Claudius put out his light when he had signed and sealed the missive, and slept the sleep of the strong and the just, undisturbed by the possession of a fortune or by any more doubts as to the future.

Before receiving this letter he had thought seriously of going away.  Now that a move was almost thrust upon him, he found that he did not want to make it.  A professor he would live and die.  What could be more contemptible, he reflected, than to give up the march of thought and the struggle for knowledge, in order to sit at ease, devising means of getting rid of so much cash?  And he straightened his great limbs along the narrow camp-bed and was asleep in five minutes.

CHAPTER II.

When Claudius awoke at daybreak he had a strong impression that he had been dreaming.  His first action was to open his iron box and read the will over again.  That being done, he reflected that his determination to keep his fortune a secret was a wise one, and that for the present he would abide by it.  So he went out and got a notary to attest his signature to the letter, and posted it to Messrs. Screw and Scratch, and returned to his books.  But the weather was intensely hot, and the sun beat down fiercely on the roof over his head, so that after two or three hours