<blockquote>I had known Geoffrey Usborne Bryant at school, so when I read of his death in the paper, I felt a chill. Only the chill of mortality, Death’s bony finger running along my spine—no more than that, for I had not known him well. Certainly not well enough that we would have called each other friend.
And then, I suppose, I forgot about the matter entirely, for it came as a violent shock, some six months later, to learn that Usborne Bryant, having neither kin nor kith, had left his papers to the Parrington Museum.</blockquote>
