Rome, whither this man had sped for health, and where he had died, leaving his affairs in great confusion. He went, was seized with mortal illness there, was followed the moment the intelligence reached Paris by your mother who carried you with her; he died the day after her arrival, leaving no will—no will—so that the whole property fell to her and you."
At this part of the recital Monks held his breath, and listened with a face of intense eagerness, though his eyes were not directed towards the speaker. As Mr. Brownlow paused, he changed his position with the air of one who has experienced a sudden relief, and wiped his hot face and hands.
"Before he went abroad, and as he passed through London on his way," said Mr. Brownlow slowly, and fixing his eyes upon the other's face—"he came to me."
"I never heard of that," interrupted Monks in a tone intended to appear incredulous, but savouring more of disagreeable surprise.
"He came to me, and left with me, among some other things, a picture—a portrait painted by
