I listened before I went to open it, for it was nearly twelve o’clock at night, and I was in no mood to admit any stranger.  I had but one friend in the College, or, indeed, in the world—­perhaps it was he.

Just then the person outside the door coughed, and I hastened to open it, for I knew the cough.

A tall man of about thirty, with the remains of great personal beauty, came hurrying in, staggering beneath the weight of a massive iron box which he carried by a handle with his right hand.  He placed the box upon the table, and then fell into an awful fit of coughing.  He coughed and coughed till his face became quite purple, and at last he sank into a chair and began to spit up blood.  I poured out some whisky into a tumbler, and gave it to him.  He drank it, and seemed better; though his better was very bad indeed.

“Why did you keep me standing there in the cold?” he asked pettishly.  “You know the draughts are death to me.”

“I did not know who it was,” I answered.  “You are a late visitor.”

“Yes; and I verily believe it is my last visit,” he answered, with a ghastly attempt at a smile.  “I am done for, Holly.  I am done for.  I do not believe that I shall see to-morrow.”

“Nonsense!” I said.  “Let me go for a doctor.”

He waved me back imperiously with his hand.  “It is sober sense; but I want no doctors.  I have studied medicine and I know all about it.  No doctors can help me.  My last hour has come!  For a year past I have only lived by a miracle.  Now listen to me as you have never listened to anybody before; for you will not have the opportunity of getting me to repeat my words.  We have been friends for two years; now tell me how much do you know about me?”

“I know that you are rich, and have had a fancy to come to College long after the age that most men leave it.  I know that you have been married, and that your wife died; and that you have been the best, indeed almost the only friend I ever had.”

“Did you know that I have a son?”

“No.”

“I have.  He is five years old.  He cost me his mother’s life, and I have never been able to bear to look upon his face in consequence.  Holly, if you will accept the trust, I am going to leave you that boy’s sole guardian.”

I sprang almost out of my chair. “Me!” I said.

“Yes, you.  I have not studied you for two years for nothing.  I have known for some time that I could not last, and since I realised the fact I have been searching for some one to whom I could confide the boy and this,” and he tapped the iron box.  “You are the man, Holly; for, like a rugged tree, you are hard and sound at core.  Listen; the boy will be the only representative of one of the most ancient families in the world, that is, so far as families can be traced.  You will laugh at me when I say it, but one day it will be proved to you beyond a doubt, that my sixty-fifth