,
knowing, as I did, that his son Archibald had died from natural causes.
"It _is_ a severe blow," I said, in as soothing a tone as I could
assume--"a very great disappointment; still, you are secured from extreme
poverty--from anything like absolute want"--

"It is not that--it is not that!" he broke in, though not quite so wildly
as before. "Look you, Mr. Sharp, I will tell you all! There may be some
mode of extrication from this terrible predicament, and I must have your
advice professionally upon it."

"Go on; I will advise you to the best of my ability."

"Here it is, then: Archy, my son Archy, is alive!--alive! and well in
health as either you or I!"

I was thunderstruck. Here was indeed a revelation.

"Alive and well," continued Andrews. "Listen! when the cholera began to
spread so rapidly, I bethought me of insuring the boy's life in case of
the worst befalling, but not, as I hope for mercy, with the slightest
thought of harming a hair of his head. This was done. Very soon the
terrific disease approached our neighborhood, and my wife took Archy to a
country lodging, returning herself the same evening. The next day our
only servant was attacked and died. A few hours after that our
first-floor lodger, a widow of the name of Mason, who had been with us
but a very short time, was attacked. She suffered dreadfully; and her
son, a boy about the age of Archy, and with just his hair and
complexion, took ill also. The woman was delirious with pain; and before
effective medical aid could be obtained--she was seized in the middle of
the night--she expired. Her son who had been removed into another room,
became rapidly worse, and we sent for Dr. Parkinson; the poor fellow was
partially delirious with pain, and clung piteously round my wife's neck,
calling her mother, and imploring her to relieve him. Dr. Parkinson
arrived, and at first sight of the boy, said, 'Your son is very ill,
Mrs. Andrews--I fear, past recovery; but we will see what can be done.' I
swear to you, Mr. Sharp, that it was not till this moment the device
which has ruined us, flashed across my brain. I cautioned my wife in a
whisper not to undeceive the doctor, who prescribed the most active
remedies, and was in the room, when the lad died. You know the rest. And
now, sir, tell me, can anything be done--any device suggested to retrieve
this miserable blunder, this terrible mistake?"

"This infamous crime, you should say, Mr. Andrews," I replied; "for