"They must be informed, naturally." Priam's mind ran rapidly over the catalogue of his family.

He could think of no one nearer than a certain Duncan Farll, a second cousin.
"I don't think he had any," he replied in a voice that trembled with excitement at the capricious rashness of what he was doing.

"Perhaps there were distant cousins.

But Mr.Farll never talked of them." Which was true.
He could scarcely articulate the words 'Mr Farll.' But when they were out of his mouth he felt that the deed was somehow definitely done.
The doctor gazed at Priam's hands, the rough, coarsened hands of a painter who is always messing in oils and dust.
"Pardon me," said the doctor.

"I presume you are his valet--or--" "Yes," said Priam Farll.
That set the seal.
"What was your master's full name ?" the doctor demanded.
And Priam Farll shivered.
"Priam Farll," said he weakly.
"Not _the_-- ?" loudly exclaimed the doctor, whom the hazards of life in London had at last staggered.
Priam nodded.
"Well, well!" The doctor gave vent to his feelings.