“We won’t take much of your time, Mr. Merrimac,” Dan urged.
“Oh, all right, come in,” the old man consented. “I warn you though, you must come directly to the point. I haven’t felt well lately, and it makes me nervous to hear a lot of chatter.”
Brad and Dan followed their unwilling host into the living room.
The evidence was overpowering that Mr. Merrimac lived alone. Although the room was well furnished, everything was covered with dust.
Newspapers had been dropped where read. Cigar ashes littered the rugs. Blinds which were three-quarters lowered, gave the entire room a gloomy atmosphere.
“I had a bad scare the other night,” Mr. Merrimac said, picking up a book so that Dan could seat himself on the sofa. “Someone tried to break in.”
“You live here by yourself?” Brad inquired.
“I do since Hayes left me. He was my butler. Said he could make more than I was paying. So the ungrateful scoundrel quit on three days notice. I’ve been unable to find anyone to take his place.”
“You have had your troubles,” Brad said. “Maybe you’d rather we came back some other day.”
“No, we may as well get this over with,” the old man sighed. “If my name is on the list, I’ll be pestered until I give ’em something. How much am I down for? Ten dollars?”