“There ain’t a scrap of writin’ in the trunk,” Mrs. Slocum vociferated.  “Me an’ my boarder hev looked.  There ain’t no writin’ an’ no jewelry, an’ no money.  He used to carry his money with him, and he had a bank book in his pocket, and a long, red book he used to git money out of the bank.  I’ve seen ’em.  Doctor Gordon said he didn’t have no money.  He did hev money.  Once he left the long, red book on his bureau, and I looked in it, and the leaves that are as good as money wan’t a quarter torn out.  I know he had money, an’ I’ve been cheated out of it.  But all I ask is that trunk.”

“For God’s sake take the trunk and clear out,” shouted Gordon with unexpected violence, “but if there is a scrap of written paper in that trunk, and you keep it, you’ll be sorry.”

“There ain’t,” said the woman with evident truthfulness.  She rose and clutched at the back of her skirt, and tugged at her boa and coat.  “Thank you, Doctor Gordon,” said she.  “When is the funeral goin’ to be?”

“Tell her to-morrow at two o’clock at the hotel, and tell her to leave,” said Gordon, and his voice was suddenly apathetic again.

When the woman had gone Gordon turned to James.  “How comedy will prick through tragedy,” he said.

“Yes,” James answered vaguely.  He looked anxiously at Gordon, whose eyes had at once a desperate and an utterly wearied appearance.  “I will make all the arrangements for the funeral, if you wish, Doctor Gordon,” he said.  “I know the undertaker, and I can manage it as well as you.  You look used up.”

“I am pretty nearly,” muttered Gordon.  Then he gave an almost affectionate glance at James.  “Do you think you can manage it?” he said.

James smiled.  “It is a new thing to me, but I have no doubt I can,” he replied.

“You cannot imagine what a weight you would take off my shoulders.  Don’t spare money.  See to it that everything is good and as it should be.  The bills are to be sent to me.”

Gordon answered an unspoken question of James.  “Yes,” he said, “he had money, a considerable fortune, and he has no heirs—­at least, I am as sure as I need be that he has none.  In his pockets were two bank books, small check books, and a security register book.  I have done them up in a parcel.  See to it that they are buried with him.”

“But,” said James.

“Oh, yes, I know.  Sooner or later there will be advertisements in the papers, and that sort of thing, but that will pass.  God knows I would not touch his money with the devil’s pitchfork, nor allow anybody whom I loved to touch it.  Let him be buried under the name by which he was known here.  It is not the name, needless to say, on the bank books.  While living under other than his rightful name, he must have gone to New York in person to supply himself with cash.  There was some two hundred dollars in bank notes in his wallet.  That is with the other things.  Let the whole be buried with him, and see to it that Drake does not discover it.  You had better take the parcel now.  Open the right drawer of the table, and you will find it in the corner.  Then, after breakfast, you had better see Drake at once.  I will attend to the patients to-day.”