“Yes, ten years or more, if my memory serves me right. Dick and his father lived over the shop, with a charwoman to come in and do for them in the morning. When Dick comes back from his dinner, a little before three, the old man was still sitting at the cash register, and Dick sees at once that something is wrong. The old chap can hardly speak, says his tongue’s very swollen, and that he feels stiff all over. Dick slips out sharp and gets a doctor, and between them they gets Ben upstairs to bed. Doctor, he did what he could, but it wasn’t any use, and poor old Ben dies in two or three hours.”

“What an extraordinary thing!” exclaimed Mr. Ludgrove.