ication which I will have
the honour to rrwead. Madame Lirrwiper understands Frrwench?" "O dear
no sir!" says I. "Madame Lirriper don't understand anything of the
sort." "It matters not," says the gentleman, "I will trrwanslate."

With that my dear the gentleman after reading something about a
Department and a Marie (which Lord forgive me I supposed till the Major
came home was Mary, and never was I more puzzled than to think how that
young woman came to have so much to do with it) translated a lot with the
most obliging pains, and it came to this:--That in the town of Sons in
France an unknown Englishman lay a dying. That he was speechless and
without motion. That in his lodging there was a gold watch and a purse
containing such and such money and a trunk containing such and such
clothes, but no passport and no papers, except that on his table was a
pack of cards and that he had written in pencil on the back of the ace of
hearts: "To the authorities. When I am dead, pray send what is left, as
a last Legacy, to Mrs. Lirriper Eighty-one Norfolk Street Strand London."
When the gentleman had explained all this, which seemed to be drawn up
much more methodical than I should have given the French credit for, not
at that time knowing the nation, he put the document into my hand. And
much the wiser I was for that you may be sure, except that it had the
look of being made out upon grocery paper and was stamped all over with
eagles.

"Does Madame Lirrwiper" says the gentleman "believe she rrwecognises her
unfortunate compatrrwiot?"

You may imagine the flurry it put me into my dear to be talked to about
my compatriots.

I says "Excuse me. Would you have the kindness sir to make your language
as simple as you can?"

"This Englishman unhappy, at the point of death. This compatrrwiot
afflicted," says the gentleman.

"Thank you sir" I says "I understand you now. No sir I have not the
least idea who this can be."

"Has Madame Lirrwiper no son, no nephew, no godson, no frrwiend, no
acquaintance of any kind in Frrwance?"

"To my certain knowledge" says I "no relation or friend, and to the best
of my belief no acquaintance."

"Pardon me. You take Locataires?" says the gentleman.

My dear fully believing he was offering me something with his obliging
foreign manners,--snuff for anything I knew,--I gave a little bend of my
head and I says if you'll credit it, "No I thank you. I have not
contracted the habit."