“Farley Curtis....  I never heard of him.”

“He’s never been here—­at least not for years.  But he’ll be along now.  We’re due to see him soon.”

“Correct,” said a voice from the door, which had opened silently.  In it stood a young man of dress and demeanor not indigenous to Coldriver.  “You’re due to see Farley Curtis—­so you behold him.  Look me over carefully.  I was due—­therefore I arrive.”  The young man laughed pleasantly, as if he intended his words to be regarded as whimsical, yet, somehow, Bob felt the whimsicality to be surface deep; that Curtis was a young man with much confidence in himself, who felt that if he were due he would inevitably arrive.

“Mr. Allen, I suppose,” said Curtis, extending his hand.  “I am told you are handling the legal affairs of my late uncle’s estate.”

Sarah Pound eyed the newcomer, and as the young men shook hands compared them, to Bob Allen’s disadvantage.  To inexperience any comparison must be to Bob’s disadvantage, for Curtis was handsome, dressed with taste, and gifted with a worldly certainty of manner and an undeniable charm.  Sarah had never encountered all these attributes in a single individual.  She drew on her reading of fiction and knew at once that she was in the presence of that wonderful creature she had seen described so frequently—­a gentleman.  As for Bob Allen, he was big, rugged, careless of dress, kindly, without pretense of polish....  And besides, to Curtis’s advantage there attached to him a certain literary glamour—­of heirship—­and a mystery due to his sudden appearance out of the great unknown that lay beyond the confines of Coldriver.

“I am in the dark,” said Curtis.  “All I know is that Uncle Solon is dead.  It is proper I should come to you for information, is it not?  For instance, there is no harm in asking if there is a will?”

“None has been found,” said Bob, not graciously.  He had taken a dislike to this stranger instinctively, a dislike which increased at an amazing pace as he noted Curtis’s eyes cast admiring glances upon Sarah Pound.

“In which case,” said the young man, “I suppose I may regard myself as an interested party.”

“Yourself and Miss Beatty are the heirs—­so far as has been determined.”

“You have searched all my uncle’s papers?”

“We have gone through them, but not so thoroughly as to reach a final conclusion.  He was a peculiar old man.”

“And no will has been found?  No—­other papers—­” Curtis smiled deprecatingly.  “It is only natural I should be interested,” he said, and smiled at Sarah.

“Was there anything special you wanted to ask?”

“Only if there was a will—­or other paper.”  There was a curious hesitation in Farley Curtis’s voice as he spoke the last two words.  “I’m glad, of course, there’s not....  Thank you.  Think I’ll stay in town till the thing is settled up.  Probably see you often.  Pleased to have met you.”  He included Sarah in the bow with which he took his leave.