"I received your letter," announced the old man in a wheezy yet amiable voice. "It seemed important, so I came to see you. It is not often that I leave my house."
He laughed; then he added: "This is the first time I have been outside for several months."
"I'm sorry," observed Duncan apologetically. "I could have come to see you."
"No, no," replied the old man. "It was only a few hours from New York. The night is mild, and the trip has done me good. A friend brought me. He is outside in his automobile."
"Would you like to stay all night?" offered Duncan.
"No, no. I am used to late hours. A habit that I have had ever since I was young like you. I can stay only a little while. Why was it that you wished to see me?"
Duncan stared speculatively across the room. He felt that he must be tactful; at the same time, old Isaac Coffran was so affable that it seemed good policy to confide in him. Duncan was anxious to learn all that he could, and although he did not intend to divulge his uncle's secret, he felt that he might be safe in giving an inkling of it.
"You knew my uncle well?" he questioned.
"Very well," affirmed the old man. "He and I knew each other for years. We had business dealings long ago — before I retired. He used to come to see me occasionally, and he wrote me frequently."
"Did you see him before he died?"