“Well?� he inquired composedly, and with the ghost of a smile upon his lean face which plainly showed the ravages of the long illness he had undergone.
“You’re a cool one,� was the response, delivered in a heavy bass voice which was yet modulated to the necessities of the occasion so that the sound of it would not penetrate beyond the walls of the sleeping room of the present master of the Lynne mansion.
“I am also a sick one—or, rather, a very weak one, as a consequence of having been extremely ill for a long time,â€� was the calm reply. “I could not fight you if I tried, there is no electric button within my reach, and I have no weapon under the pillow, or in the bed, so your present attitude with that gun in your hand is quite unnecessary.â€�
The unexpected, uninvited guest chuckled and grinned, and lowered the gun, which he dropped into the side pocket of his sack coat.
“You are Carleton Lynne,â€� he said—as one might have said “this is a room in a house.â€�
“I am,� was the reply.
“You are the master of millions, too.�
“About a dozen of them, I think—more or less.â€�
“What are you going to do with them?�
“Really, I don’t know. I haven’t given much thought to that aspect of the subject, as yet.� This reply was given with a smile, and Lynne hitched himself farther up in the bed and crowded the extra pillow behind him.