“You did come out to see me once,” he said. “We talked about insurance then; but it was fire insurance. Furthermore, it was considerably over a year and a half ago — before I went to South America.”
“We must have talked about accident insurance, too,” insisted Fellows.
“No,” replied the millionaire. “I have no need for such insurance. My income takes care of me.
“Furthermore, I gathered from Richards’s remarks that this last visit of yours was quite recent. It must have been just before I went to California, six months ago.”
Fellows shook his head emphatically. At the same time, he felt uneasy. His visit to Cranston’s, when the millionaire had been injured, had taken place not more than four months before.
“Well,” said the millionaire, in a doubting tone, “I guess I’m wrong about it. I’ve been away for six solid months. I picked up my affairs exactly as I left them. I don’t bother much with business details. Richards must have been dreaming.
“Still, the whole thing is very queer. But I’m not going to worry about it. I can’t see that it means anything has gone wrong. Richards is trustworthy, so I’ll let it drop.”
“How about lunch together?” suggested Fellows, taking advantage of the opportunity to change the subject.
“Sorry, Claude,” was the reply. “I have an engagement. Come out to the house some night next week. I’ll let you know the date later.”
The insurance broker agreed, and the millionaire left the office. But Fellows sat at his desk, and as the minutes moved by, his mind became more and more bewildered.