"Because, to the best of my belief, it is impossible for a dead man to send anything; and, if my memory doesn't betray me, I fancy I read in the newspaper accounts of that big Tajik rising at Khotour a couple of months ago, that the leader, one Abdul ben Meerza, a rich but exceedingly miserly merchant of the province of Elburz, was, by the Shah's command, bastinadoed within an inch of his life, and then publicly beheaded." "By Jove! I believe you are right, my dear fellow," asserted Narkom.

"I thought the name had a familiar sound--as if I had, somewhere, heard it before.

I suppose there is no likelihood, by any chance, that the old skinflint could have lived up to his promise and left poor Carboys something, after all, Cleek?
Because, you know, if he did--" "Captain Morrison would, as heir-at-law, inherit it," supplemented Cleek, dryly.

"Get out the motor, Mr.Narkom, and let's spin round and see him.

I fancy I should like a few minutes' conversation with the Captain.