Well, then, you can imagine how it came upon
me when I heard--But let me tell you first that I hadn't seen my uncle for
fifteen years or more. I had always thought him a well-to-do man, and I
knew he wasn't married, but the truth is, it never came into my head that
he might leave me something. Picture me, Mr. Goldthorpe--you have
imagination, sir--standing behind the counter and thinking about nothing
but business, when in comes a young gentleman--I see him now--and asks for
Mr. Spicer. "Spicer is my name, sir," I said. "And you are the nephew,"
were his next words, "of the late Mr. Isaac Spicer, of Clapham, London?"
That shook me, sir, I assure you it did, but I hope I behaved decently. The
young gentleman went on to tell me that my uncle had left no will, and that
I was believed to be his next-of-kin, and that if so, I inherited all his
property, the principal part of which was three houses in London. Now try
and think, Mr. Goldthorpe, what sort of state I was in after hearing that.
You're an intellectual man, and you can enter into another's mind. Three
houses! Well, sir, you know what houses those were. I came up to London at
once (it was last autumn), and I saw my uncle's lawyer, and he told me all
about the property, and I saw it for myself.
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