"Sit down, Mr. Van Duren--sit down close beside me. I have something to say to you. But are you sure that we are quite alone?"
"We are quite alone, Mr. Byrne."
"Good."
He said no more for a minute or two, but fumbled nervously with his handkerchief, still keeping his eyes fixed intently on the fire. Then he had a little fit of coughing. When that was over, and he had recovered his breath, he laid his hand on Mr. Van Duren's wrist, and spoke.
"We can't expect to live for ever, Mr. Van Duren--eh?"
"I suppose not," said Mr. Van Duren, with a sneer; "and I for one would certainly not care to do so."
"Are you one of those people who think that a man is likely to die any the sooner for having made his will?"
"Certainly not. I am no believer in such foolish superstitions."
"When a man has anything to leave--when he has any dispositions to make with regard to his property, it is best not to put off making them till the last moment--eh?"
"It is very foolish to do so, Mr. Byrne. But it is what many people do, for all that."