I am far from denying the possibility of a coincidence in point of time between a fit of indigestion and a domestic misfortune.

I am far from denying the possibility of more remarkable coincidences than that.

I have read in books, novels by the very best French authors, how a man, not heard of for twenty years, having, in point of fact, been absent during that time in the interior of Africa, may appear at Paris at a given moment, only in time to save a young lady from dishonour, and rescue a property of ten million francs.

But these great writers of fiction don't give us any warning whatever.

The door is thrown heavily open, and he stalks up to the table where the will is lying, quite unexpectedly; stalks up always, or else strides.