Skinny had listened with close attention to all that had been said to him and now, taking the paper with the different names marked on it, he carefully went over it, making a few scratches of his own from time to time which should serve him as memoranda. Then without a word, he took the roll of bills which lay on the table before him, counted them carefully and hid them away in the inner pocket of his ragged jacket.
“I understand, boss,” he simply said, “wot time does de train start?”
“To-night at eight,” was the reply, “here’s a time table and remember to change cars at Syracuse for Oswego. There you will take another train for Rocky Point. Be careful not to attract any attention or set those village fools to gossiping and cackling. Above all, don’t let anybody find out that I sent you, or that there’s anybody alive who takes any interest in the grave of Mary Decker or in the whereabouts of her son. If you get through this trip all right and find out what I want to know, I’ll give you more money than you ever had before in your life.”
“Dere won’t be no slip-up, nor funny business wid me, boss,” said Skinny as he buttoned his coat over the roll of greenbacks. “I’ll git you dere names and all and I’ll probably write yer in two or tree days.”
Mr. Korwein accompanied the boy to the gate and, having repeated his caution to observe secrecy and dispatch in his mission, bade him good-bye, and watched him as he walked down the road and finally disappeared from view; then he returned to the front porch of the house, seated himself on the steps, and for some time sat there smoking and thinking. After awhile, he threw away his cigar, pulled a letter from his pocket and read it carefully through. It was dated Paris, and read as follows:
“My Dear Nephew:
It is a great pleasure to me to hear from you as frequently as I do, and I sincerely hope that you are living up to all that you promised me at our last meeting. I think on the whole, that it is a fortunate thing for me, that you are living in the old homestead, and I am glad that you find the house comfortable. As the years roll by, each one leaves its weight on my shoulders and as I draw nearer to the end I find myself thinking more of the few of my blood who remain. As I told you long ago I have never made a will, fearing that it would bring about an unseemly contest after I had gone. As next of kin you will be my principal heir, and I charge you once more to carefully carry out all the wishes which I have made known to you concerning the small bequests to my faithful servants and others whom I wish to reward.
I have not yet determined when to return to my own country, but it is not improbable that you will see me before the end of the year. Meantime see that the house and grounds are suitably maintained, and write me from time to time concerning your welfare.
Hoping this will find you in good health, I remain,
Your affectionate kinsman,