took morphia?" he asked in an undertone. "That finished him."
"No, I knew nothing," said I. "I only feel that a good chap has gone."
We buried him the day before we arrived at Nagasaki, and his widow—who obtained a perfect rig-out of mourning from a Chinese tailor—seemed overcome with grief but said she must go home with us.
And so we carried her the round trip, always a poor pathetic little figure, inviting the sympathy of everybody, and only getting her few moments of recreation in my cabin. She looked forward to her brandy-and-soda there as the only saving clause in her life.
To cut it all short, we got home: she proved his will. It was made out to her in her maiden name, and his relations at first were inclined to contest it. But they gave up the idea. The evidence was too strong against them, and they could not stultify his name, anyway.
I got my money, but I had to make three or four journeys to see the lady, and talk pretty straight to her before I really did put it in my pocket. And all the time I knew it was just a toss-up whether I gained or not.
However, I was very pleased ultimately, that
