g.
The heirs of the deceased are requested to communicate with
William Harrison, Solicitor, Lincoln's Inn."

"My uncle!" cried Felix. "Alas, I have killed my uncle and
Mandarin Li."

He had not a penny to pay for his traveling expenses to London;
but, on producing his certificate of birth and the newspaper
article, his landlady easily negotiated for him with an honest
broker, who advanced him a thousand francs to arrange his
affairs, without interest, upon his note for a trifle of eighteen
hundred, payable in six weeks.

Eight days after reaching London, Felix, established in a
fashionable hotel, was awaiting with nervous eagerness the first
instalment of a million, the proceeds of a cargo of teas, sold
under the direction of Mr. Harrison. He was too restless for
thought, burning with impatience to take possession of his
property, to handle his wealth, and, as it were, to verify his
dream. Yet the fact was indisputable. Richard Malden's death, and
his own relationship to the intestate had been legally proved and
established. Felix d'Aubremel regularly and assuredly inherited a
fortune, and he had no doubts nor scruples on that point.

A servant interrupted his reflections, announcing his solicitor's
clerk. "Why does not Mr. Harrison come himself?" he was on the
point of asking, but amazement at the clerk's appearance took
away his breath. He was a shriveled little object, slight, bony,
crooked and hideous, with a monstrous head and round eyes, a bald
skull, a flat nose, a mouth from ear to ear, and a little jutting
paunch that looked like a sack.

"I bring the Marquis d'Aubremel the monies he is expecting," said
the man, and his voice, shrill and silvery, like a musical box or
the bell of a clock, impressed Felix painfully. The voice grated
on the nerves. "I have drawn a receipt in regular form," said
Felix, extending his hand. But the solicitor's clerk leaned his
back against the door, without stirring a step. "Well, sir,"
Felix exclaimed with a convulsive effort. The man approached
slowly, scarcely moving his feet, as if sliding across the floor.
His right hand was buried in his coat pocket; he held his head
bent down, and his lips moved inaudibly. At last he pulled from
his pocket a large bundle of banknotes, bills and papers, drew
near the window, and began to count them carefully.

Felix was then struck by a strange phenomenon that might well
inspire undefined terror. Standing directly in front of the
wi