When he had recovered somewhat from his shortness of breath, he said: "Excuse me. A little unusual exertion always brings on a fit of coughing. This is Mr. Robert Burnham, I suppose?"
"That is my name," answered Burnham, regarding his visitor with some curiosity.
"Ah! just so; you don't know me, I presume?"
"No, I don't remember to have met you before."
"It's not likely that you have, not at all likely. My name is Craft,
Simon Craft. I live in Philadelphia when I'm at home."
"Ah! Philadelphia is a fine city. What can I do for you, Mr. Craft?"
"That isn't the question, sir. The question is, what can I do for you?"
The old man looked carefully around the room, rose, went to the door, which had been left ajar, closed it noiselessly, and resumed his seat.
"Well," said Mr. Burnham, calmly, "what can you do for me?"
"Much," responded the old man, resting his elbows on the table in front of him; "very much if you will give me your time and attention for a few moments."