him, and
at the bottom of which lay his medals and cross of honour.

The gendarme laid his hand on the shoulder of the dead man and said:
"You were just looking at your cross again, old comrade, were you, and
then you fell asleep?"

The two men put the money and the papers back into the cash-box, which
the village-elder placed in a cupboard that stood open. This he locked,
and took possession of the key.

"There is something else," cried the gendarme suddenly; and he pointed
to a folded paper lying on a little table by the door.

"My last will and testament. To be opened immediately," was written on
the document in the rather shaky but distinct handwriting of the
turnpike-keeper. The "immediately" was underlined three times.

Well, the injunction was plain enough; and the two officials did not
hesitate to comply with it. They had the legal right to do so, and
besides they were extremely curious.

The paper was not even sealed up. It contained nothing at all
extraordinary. Old Vogt desired in case of his death that the crippled
neighbour who had sometimes helped him to look after the place should
keep everything in order until his son returned from his military
service. He was to have the money obtained from the sale of the milk as
a reward for his trouble. Then the will continued: "Everything I have
belongs, of course, to my dear son Franz. The expenses of my burying
are to be defrayed from the money contained in the box labelled
'funeral money.' I wish to have a very simple funeral, and desire
particularly that my son shall only be informed of my death after the
ceremony is over, in case it should happen before February 3rd next
year."

"We shook our heads over that," said the village-elder to Franz. "It
seemed so funny that he should have fixed upon a date." He coughed and
went on in an embarrassed way. "Now of course we know that your father
did not want us to hear of your--misfortune, at least as long as he was
still above ground. Well, well, it has not been so bad after all,
according to what your captain told me."

The superintendent of the prison cut him short rather nervously: "That
has nothing to do with the case, sir, has it?"

Thereupon the peasant proceeded with his narrative. After they had left
the dead man, of course the first thing was to see to the cows. The
pigs had eaten all the straw in their sty and the poultry had rushed
like mad things upon the grain that was given them.

Everything