Laura Kendrick halted me, and looked up in my face.
"I am not given to intuitions," she said, her tone thrilling with earnestness, "but I have one now. As sure as you stand there, uncle made provision for paying the notes and raising the rest of the money you have had to find, and the number 'five hundred and sixteen' has something to do with it. Find the five hundred and sixteen and you'll find the million dollars." And with a nod of conviction she walked forward once more.
"It may be one of the banks," I ventured to suggest, "but I can't remember that any of them are at that number."
"Mightn't it be the place of business of some friend, where he has left this money?"
I shook my head at this improbable guess, and turned the problem over in my mind without result. Then I ventured to propose that I should see Wharton Kendrick.
"My presence might stir his thoughts to some more definite speech," I argued.
"Well, I'll let you in for just a minute. But Doctor Roberts said that nothing must be done to excite him, and I don't know as it is right to take the risk."
In a few minutes we were in the sick-room where Wharton Kendrick lay. His large frame was motionless, except for his breathing. His face was flushed, and the lines of strength and power that it bore in health had faded into expressionless weakness.
"He is like this for the greater part of the time," said Laura; "yet I have the feeling that under it all he is conscious of what is going on about him, and I do everything just as if I were sure that he could hear and see."
It was beyond all bounds of probability, yet at the conceit a sudden thought came into my mind.