“Yes,” was Bob’s answer. “I came, hoping to find some information regarding my uncle. I thought that perhaps you might give it to me.”
Zachary Mitchell eyed Bob closely.
“Why do you think that I might have some information?” he asked.
“From what Hodgson said.”
“Hodgson?”
“Yes. My uncle’s old trusted servant. You know” — Bob’s voice broke as he pretended sudden sorrow — “Uncle Theodore died in Paraguay. I am sure that he would like to have talked to me — or to some friend. But he was unable even to write.
“Old Hodgson — I sent him away on a vacation, a few days ago — spoke to me confidentially and mentioned your name. Until now, I have not had the opportunity to call to see you.”
“Ah, yes. What did Hodgson say?”
“Nothing specific. Simply that my uncle had told him I should communicate with you. Evidently my uncle had forebodings when he went away.”
“Hm-m-m.” Mitchell was thoughtful. “Do you know much about your uncle, Robert?”