The messenger looked up, and, seeing the Doctor at his window, held out a large envelope.

“A letter for you, Herr Doctor,” he cried, and his red nose gleamed in the evening glow, strongly foreshortened to the Doctor’s eye.

“Gleich,” replied Claudius, and the yellow head disappeared from the window, its owner descending to open the door.

As he mounted the dingy staircase Claudius turned the great sealed envelope over and over in his hand, wondering what could be the contents.  It was postmarked “New York,” but the hand was large and round and flourished, not in the least like his uncle’s sexagenarian crabbedness of hieroglyphic.  In the corner was the name of a firm he did not know, and the top of the letter was covered with a long row of stamps, for it was very thick and heavy.  So he went into his room, and sat down on the window-sill to see what Messrs. Screw and Scratch of Pine Street, New York, could possibly want of Claudius, Phil.D. of Heidelberg.

His curiosity soon gave way to very considerable surprise.  The first part of the letter contained the formal announcement of the sudden decease of Gustavus Lindstrand, of the firm of Barker and Lindstrand of New York.  Claudius laid down the letter and sighed.  His one relation had not been much to him.  He had no recollection even of the old gentleman’s appearance, but the regular correspondence had given him a feeling of reliance, a sensation of not being absolutely alone.  He was alone now.  Not a relation of any description in the world.  Well, he would read the remainder of the letter.  He turned over the page.

“We enclose a copy of the will,” the lawyer continued, “for your inspection.  You will see that Mr. Screw of our firm is appointed joint executor with Mr. Silas B. Barker, and we await your further instructions.  In view of the large fortune you inherit,” . . .

Claudius looked up suddenly and gazed blankly out of the window; then he went on—­

. . . “by the aforesaid will of your uncle, the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand, it might be well if, at your convenience, you could pay a visit to this country.”

Here Claudius thought it was time to look at the will itself.  Unfolding the document, which was very short, he acquainted himself with the contents.  There were a few legacies to old servants, and one or two to persons who were probably friends.  Everything else was devised and bequeathed “to my nephew, the son of my sister, Claudius, privat-docent in the University of Heidelberg, Grand Duchy of Baden, Germany.”  And it appeared that the surplus, after deducting all legacies and debts, amounted to about one million and a half of dollars.