“Mr. Claudius live here?” interrogated the stranger in a high and metallic, but gentlemanly voice.

“I am Dr. Claudius,” said the tenant of the old chair, rising politely.  “Pray be seated, sir,” and he offered his one seat to his visitor, who advanced into the middle of the room.

He was a young man, dressed in the extreme of the English fashion.  He was probably excessively thin, to judge by his face and neck and hands, but he was made up admirably.  He removed his hat and showed a forehead of mediocre proportions, over which his dark hair was conscientiously parted in the middle.  Though not in appearance robust, he wore a moustache that would not have disgraced a Cossack, his eyes were small, gray, and near together, and his complexion was bad.  His feet were minute, and his hands bony.

He took the offered chair, and Claudius sat down upon the bed, which was by no means so far removed in the little room as to make conversation at that distance difficult.

“Dr. Claudius?” the stranger repeated, and the Doctor nodded gravely.  “Dr. Claudius, the nephew of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand of New York?”

“The same, sir.  May I inquire to what good fortune I am indebted—­”

“Oh! of course,” interrupted the other, “I am Mr. Barker—­Silas B. Barker junior of New York, and my father was your uncle’s partner.”

“Indeed,” said Claudius, rising and coming forward, “then we must shake hands again,” and his face wore a pleasant expression.  He thought nothing of first impressions, and was prepared to offer a hearty welcome to any friend of his uncle, even of the most unprepossessing type.  Mr. Barker was not exactly unprepossessing; he was certainly not handsome, but there was a look of action about him that was not unpleasing.  Claudius felt at once, however, that the American belonged to a type of humanity of which he knew nothing as yet.  But they shook hands cordially, and the Doctor resumed his seat.

“And is it long since you received the news, Professor?” inquired Mr. Barker, with the ready Transatlantic use of titles.

“I heard of my uncle’s death about three weeks ago—­rather less.”

“Ah yes!  And the news about the will—­did you hear that?”

“Certainly,” said the Doctor; “I received the intelligence simultaneously.”

“Well,” said the American, “do you propose to continue living here?”

Claudius looked at his visitor.  He was as yet unfamiliar with New World curiosity, and thought the question a rather strange one.  However, he reflected that Mr. Barker’s father might have some moral claim to know what his old partner’s heir meant to do with his money; so he answered the question categorically.

“I was, as perhaps you may imagine, greatly surprised at the intelligence that I had inherited a great fortune.  But you will hardly understand, with your tastes,”—­the Doctor glanced at Mr. Barker’s faultless costume,—­“that such abundant and unexpected wealth may not be to me a wholly unalloyed blessing.”  Claudius proceeded to explain how little he cared for the things that his money might bring him, and announced his intention of continuing his present mode of life some time longer.  Mr. Silas B. Barker junior of New York opened his small eyes wider and wider, as his host set forth his views.