"No, sir. But he gave me the money, and he gave me the mine. He——" but Charley was interrupted by a resounding knock on the front door.
"See who that is," bade his father. "I'll lay these things away."
When Charley opened the front door, the long-nosed man stood there, on the threshold.
"Hello," he greeted, brusquely. "I called around to see our friend. How is he?"
"Why," stammered Charley. "He's—he's dead."
"When?"
"Just a few moments ago."
"He is, is he? I'll have to look into that." And the long-nosed man pushed by Charley and strode through the hall. Charley could do nothing but follow. He found the man confronting Mr. Adams. The figure on the sofa had been covered by a cloth.
"The kid says our friend has passed over," rather roughly spoke the long-nosed man. "How about it?"
"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Adams. "There he is."