The old man who had nursed him was now comfortably wrapped in the blanket and clothed in the coat and stockings which Alice had sent for the use of the dead man. I hope the things kept him warm. Matthew was dead. At first I did not understand the difference it made to me. I asked if he had left anything behind him; any letters or papers or anything at all that his sisters might desire to have. There was nothing; absolutely nothing was left of him at all. Most of our lives are like the stones thrown in the water; it makes circles widening and growing indistinct; presently these signs vanish altogether. Then the stone is clean forgotten. So the man and his life are clean forgotten, never to be brought to mind again. Matthew left no circles even; his was a stone that fell into the water silently and made no splash and left no mark upon the surface even for a minute. He lived for eight-and-twenty years: he ruined an old and noble House of trade; he lost all the wealth and possessions and money of the House; he lost all the money he could borrow; he plotted against me continually in order to get some of the money which might be mine; he wilfully and deliberately deceived the woman who married him; he died in a debtors' prison without a single friend in the world or a single possession to bequeath to a single friend, if he had one. To die lying on the floor--it would have been on the bare planks but for Alice; in the dark room without fire or light; what more wretched end could one desire for his worst enemy? What more miserable record could one set down against a man? I could do nothing more. I left the poor shell in the shed and passed over to the other side. If my uncle could understand anything I had to communicate the sad news to him. His only son was dead--What a son! What a life! What a death! The alderman was sitting before the fire. With him sat his two daughters. The guinea a week which was meant for him alone procured food for the two girls as well. They passed the whole day, I believe, sitting thus before the fire in gloom and bitterness; their bitterness was mostly directed against myself as the supposed cause of all their troubles. 'Cousin,' said one of them looking up, 'you are not wanted here.' 'Perhaps not. I have come, however, to bring you news. It is not good news, I am sorry to say.' 'That one can see by the joy expressed in your face.' Yet I did not feel joyful. 'Sir,' I addressed my uncle. 'I bring you bad news.' He looked up and smiled vacuously. 'You will find my brother, sir, on Change, I believe.' 'Yes, Sir. I would speak to you of Matthew.' 'He is in the counting-house, or perhaps on board one of the ships. Or on the Quay.' I turned to the daughters. 'I see that he understands nothing.' 'No. He eats and sleeps. He talks nonsense. It is no use speaking to him. You have seen us in our shame and misery. Give us your news and go.' 'It is about Matthew.' 'Matthew? Where is he? We heard he had escaped.'