“I'm his nephew. My name is Floyd—Nelson Floyd. I've never met my uncle.”
“Oh, I see!” The woman's brow was corrugated. “Mr. Floyd did have a brother who died young, but I don't think I ever heard him speak of him. But he don't talk much to anybody, and now—la me!—he's so worried over his business that he's as near crazy as any man I ever saw. You say you haven't ever seen him! Then you'd better not expect him to be very sociable. As I say, he's all upset over business. The way he's doing is the talk of the neighborhood. There, I heard the gate shut. I reckon that's him now.”
She went to one of the front windows and parted the curtains and looked out.
“Yes, that's him. I'll go and tell him you are here.”
Nelson heard the door open and close and then muffled voices, a gruff, masculine one, and that of the servant lowered persuasively. Heavy steps passed on down the hall, and then the woman came back.
“I told him you was here, sir,” she said. “He's gone to his room, but will be back in a minute. He's queer, sir; if you haven't seen him before you had as well be prepared for that. I heard Dr. Plympton say the other day that if he didn't stop worrying as he is that he'd have a stroke of paralysis.”
The woman retired and the visitor sat for several moments alone. Presently he heard the heavy-steps in the hall and Henry A. Floyd came in. He was very pale, his skin appearing almost ashen in color, and his eyes, under their heavy brows, had a restless, shifting expression. Nelson felt repelled in a way he could not account for. The old man failed to offer any greeting, and it was only the caller's extended hand that seemed to remind him of the courtesy due a stranger. Even then only the ends of his cold fingers touched those of the young man. A thrill of intense and disagreeable surprise passed over Nelson, for his uncle stood staring at him steadily, without uttering a word.
“Did your servant tell you who I am?” the young man ventured, in no little embarrassment.
“Yes, she told me,” old Floyd answered. “She told me.”
“From your stand-point, sir,” Nelson said, “perhaps I have little excuse for coming to see you without an intimation from you that such a visit would be welcome, but I confess I was so anxious to hear, something from you about my parents that I couldn't wait longer.”