Dick felt light-hearted. Mr. Bidlake would not receive him in this fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so.
"Well now, to come to business right away," said Mr. Bidlake the moment they were seated—"you got my message?"
"Twenty-four hours before I was wrecked," replied Dick.
"Just so. You'll tell us all about that presently. My word, you must have had a terrible time! But that's by the way. You got my message, and therefore you know that your uncle, Mr. Charles Faversham, is dead?"
Dick nodded. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer.
"Of course, you know that Mr. Charles Faversham was a bachelor, and—by the way, Mr. Bilton, will you find the Faversham papers? You've had them in hand."
"Yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated Dick as Mr. Bidlake hesitated.
"You've never had any communications with him?"
"Never."
"A peculiar man. A genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar man. However, I think it's all plain enough."