"It's not imagination. It is reality. Because my uncle took care that I should learn that secret, even though I did not arrive in time to hear it from his own lips. I have read a message, written by my uncle. It told me everything—"
The old man held up a hand in warning.
"I believe you, my boy. But you must not say another word. Your uncle was a friend of mine; if he had wished that I should know his secret, he would have told it to me. Keep his secret carefully, whatever it may be."
Bruce Duncan smiled.
"I intend to do so," he said. "But there are certain facts which I can state to you. First of all, I did not read his message until one month after his death. It concerned certain documents that were hidden here in the house.
"The night before I read the message, a thief entered this room and stole the very articles that were mentioned in my uncle's message. I saw the thief at work; being ignorant of the facts at the time, I did not act."
Duncan went to the fireplace and pushed the secret spring. The stone on the hearth sprang open before the astonished gaze of Isaac Coffran. Duncan studied the old man as the latter leaned forward in his chair, his mouth gaping.
"Incredible!" exclaimed Isaac Coffran. "Incredible!"
"It is my duty," explained Duncan, "to recover the stolen articles. Inasmuch as the hiding place is known to some person besides ourselves and as it is now empty, I betray no confidence in showing it to you."
"You saw the thief, you say?"