And so, guarded against his heart and,
having his niece with him, he went round the world. . . .
He wasn't obtrusive about his heart. You wouldn't have known he
had one. He only left it to the physical laboratory at Waterbury for
the benefit of science, since he considered it to be quite an
extraordinary kind of heart. And the joke of the matter was that,
when, at the age of eighty-four, just five days before poor
Florence, he died of bronchitis there was found to be absolutely
nothing the matter with that organ. It had certainly jumped or
squeaked or something just sufficiently to take in the doctors, hut
it appears that that was because of an odd formation of the lungs. I
don't much understand about these matters.
I inherited his money because Florence died five days after him. I
wish I hadn't. It was a great worry. I had to go out to Waterbury
just after Florence's death because the poor dear old fellow had
left a good many charitable bequests and I had to appoint trustees.
I didn't like the idea of their not being properly handled.
Yes, it was a great worry. And just as I had got things roughly
settled I received the extraordinary cable from Ashburnham
begging me to come back and have a talk with him.
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