"I was writing you a letter when your telegram arrived."
"And then you did not stop to finish it?"
"I did finish it, Mr. Moss, in case you did not come."
"May I read it?"
"Yes; it will explain matters; you will learn from it what it would pain me to tell you in any other way."
"Smoke a cigar while I read."
Aaron took the cigar and laid it aside, and then Mr. Moss, who had taken off his thick coat, sat down and perused the letter.
"I have come in the nick of time, Cohen," he said--"in the nick of time. There is a silver lining to every cloud. I have brought it with me."
"I felt," said Aaron, his hopes rising, "that you could not be the bearer of bad news."
"Not likely, friend Cohen--not likely. I am the bearer of good news, of the best of news. Don't be led away; it isn't a legacy--no, no, it isn't a legacy, but something almost as good, and I hope you will not throw away the chance."