If the doctor did not send the letter, from whom could it have come? This was the question that Bunting asked himself immediately. But no satisfactory answer came. He was puzzled and uncomfortable. Moreover, the result of the doctor's errand to New York—which had proved any thing but a fool's errand—was something that he could not understand.
"I wonder if I hadn't better call on Wilde & Lyon?" said he to himself, at length. "Perhaps the letter was no trick, after all."
Bunting held a long argument, mentally, on the subject, in which all the pros and cons were fully discussed. Finally, he decided to call at the place referred to in his letter, and did so immediately on reaching this decision. Still, fearing that the letter might have been a hoax, he made some few purchases of articles for his store, and then gave his name.
"Thomas Bunting!" said the person with whom he was dealing. "Do you reside in the city?"
Bunting mentioned his place of residence.
"Did you never receive a letter from this house, desiring to see you?"
"I did," replied Bunting; "but as it was dated on the first of April, I took it for the jest of some merry friend."
"Very far from it, I can assure you," answered the man. "An old gentleman arrived here from England about that time, who said that a brother and sister had come to this country many years ago, and that he was in search of them or their children. His name was Bunting. At his request, we made several advertisements for his relatives. Some one mentioned that a gentleman named Thomas Bunting resided in the town where you live; and we immediately dropped him a note. But, as no answer came, it was presumed the information was incorrect."
"Where is he now?" asked Bunting.
"He is dead."