"A hundred thousand dollars!" ejaculated Nicholas Walton, staring at his brother-in-law in amazement. "Yes." "Explain yourself--that is, if you are not joking." "Fortunately it is not a joke. As to the explanation, here it is: Some years ago I was called, when a young practitioner in New York (I began here, you know), to attend a wealthy West Indian planter, boarding at the New York Hotel. He was critically sick, and required constant attention. I had little to do, and devoted myself to him. He was convinced that he owed his life to me. He paid me handsomely then, and requested me to keep him apprised of my whereabouts. I have done so. Yesterday I received a letter, requesting me to come to New York, and call at a certain room in the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I did so. I found a Cuban gentleman, who, first apprising me that my former patient was dead, added, to my amazement, that he had left me in his will one hundred thousand dollars. Furthermore, he had the amount with him in negotiable securities, and transferred them at once to my hands." "And you have them with you?" "Yes." "It was strangely informal." "True, but this gentleman was about to sail for Europe, to be absent five years--he sailed this afternoon--and he wished to be rid of his commission." "It is like a romance," said the merchant, slowly. "Yes, it's like a romance. I don't mind telling you," added the doctor, in a lower tone, "that it relieves me very much. Conscious, as I am, that my life hangs on a thread, it makes me easy about the future of my wife and child." "Your life hangs on a thread? What do you mean?" "I mean," said the physician, seriously, "that our family is subject to heart disease. My grandfather died at a minute's notice; so did my father; so, in all probability, shall I. No insurance company, knowing this, would insure me, and, till this windfall came, I was subject at times to great anxiety." "Does your wife--my sister--know that you have received this money?" asked Walton, slowly. "No; she merely knows that I received a letter from New York." "And you are really liable to die suddenly?" "Yes; I shall probably drop dead some day. My father died at my present age. Any sudden excitement----" "Good heavens! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Walton, springing to his feet, excitedly. "What do you mean?" asked the physician, startled. "Your face is livid; you look like a corpse. Great heavens! has your time come?" Doctor Baker rose to his feet in terrible agitation; his face changed; he put his hand on his heart, swayed himself for a moment, and then fell lifeless. Walton had supplied the sudden excitement, and brought upon him the family doom. Nicholas Walton, half-terrified, half-triumphant, gazed at his victim. He knelt down, and tearing open the vest of his visitor, placed his hand upon his heart. It had ceased to beat. "Now for the securities!" he murmured hoarsely.