gedmyfathertoletmelivewithhimandhewasverykindtomeinhisway.Whenhewassoberheusedtobefondofplayingbackgammonanddraughtswithme,andhewouldmakemehisrepresentativebothwiththeservantsandwiththetradespeople,sothatbythetimethatIwassixteenIwasquitemasterofthehouse.IkeptallthekeysandcouldgowhereIlikedanddowhatIliked,solongasIdidnotdisturbhiminhisprivacy.Therewasonesingularexception,however,forhehadasingleroom,alumber-roomupamongtheattics,whichwasinvariablylocked,andwhichhewouldneverpermiteithermeoranyoneelsetoenter.Withaboy’scuriosityIhavepeepedthroughthekeyhole,butIwasneverabletoseemorethansuchacollectionofoldtrunksandbundlesaswouldbeexpectedinsucharoom.
“Oneday—itwasinMarch,1883—aletterwithaforeignstamplayuponthetableinfrontofthecolonel’splate.Itwasnotacommonthingforhimtoreceiveletters,forhisbillswereallpaidinreadymoney,andhehadnofriendsofanysort.‘FromIndia!’saidheashetookitup,‘Pondicherrypostmark!Whatcanthisbe?’Openingithurriedly,outtherejumpedfivelittledriedorangepips,whichpattereddownuponhisplate.Ibegantolaughatthis,butthelaughwasstruckfrommylipsatthesightofhisface.Hisliphadfallen,hiseyeswereprotruding,hisskinthecolourofputty,andheglaredattheenvelopewhichhestillheldinhistremblinghand,‘K.K.K.!’heshrieked,andthen,‘MyGod,myGod,mysinshaveovertakenme!’
“‘Whatisit,uncle?’Icried.
“‘Death,’saidhe,andrisingfromthetableheretiredtohisroom,leavingmepalpitatingwithhorror.Itookuptheenvelopeandsawscrawledinredinkupontheinnerflap,justabovethegum,theletterKthreetimesrepeated.Therewasnothingelsesavethefivedriedpips.Whatcouldbethereasonofhisoverpoweringterror?Ileftthebreakfast-table,andasIascendedthestairImethimcomingdownwithanoldrustykey,whichmusthavebelongedtotheattic,inonehand,andasmallbrassbox,likeacashbox,intheother.
“‘Theymaydowhattheylike,butI’llcheckmatethemstill,’saidhewithanoath.‘TellMarythatIshallwantafireinmyroomto-day,andsenddowntoFordham,theHorshamlawyer.’
“Ididasheordered,andwhenthelawyerarrivedIwasaskedtostepuptotheroom.Thefirewasburningbrightly,andinthegratetherewasamassofblack,fluffyashes,asofburnedpaper,whilethebrassboxstoodopenandemptybesideit.AsIglancedattheboxInoticed,withastart,thatuponthelidwasprintedthetrebleKwhichIhadreadinthemorningupontheenvelope.
“‘Iwishyou,John,’saidmyuncle,‘towitnessmywill.Ileavemyestate,withallitsadvantagesandallitsdisadvantages,tomybrother,yourfather,whenceitwill,nodoubt,descendtoyou.Ifyoucanenjoyitinpeace,wellandgood!Ifyoufindyoucannot,takemyadvice,myboy,andleaveittoyourdeadliestenemy.Iamsorrytogiveyousuchatwo-edgedthing,butIcan’tsaywhatturnthingsaregoingtotake.KindlysignthepaperwhereMr.Fordhamshowsyou.’
“Isignedthepaperasdirected,andthelawyertookitawaywithhim.Thesingularincidentmade,asyoumaythink,thedeepestimpressionuponme,andIponderedoveritandturnediteverywayinmymindwithoutbeingabletomakeanythingofit.YetIcouldnotshakeoffthevaguefeelingofdreadwhichitleftbehind,thoughthesensationgrewlesskeenastheweekspassedandnothinghappenedtodisturbtheusualroutineofourlives.Icouldseeachangeinmyuncle,however.Hedrankmorethanever,andhewaslessinclinedforanysortofsociety.Mostofhistimehewouldspendinhisroom,withthedoorlockedupontheinside,butsometimeshewouldemergeinasortofdrunkenfrenzyandwouldburstoutofthehouseandtearaboutthegardenwitharevolverinhishand,screamingoutthathewasafraidofnoma