Tom, though young, was a Merriwether. He said, politely, "Let me hear the question, sir."
He himself was thinking in questions: What can the question be? Who is this man? What is the game? What will be the end of it all?
"One question, sir," repeated the stranger.
"I am listening, sir," Tom assured him, with a quiet, but quite impressive, earnestness.
"_Where did you spend your vacation at the end of your Freshman year?"_
Tom was so surprised, and even disappointed, that he hesitated. Then he answered:
"In Oleander Point, Long Island, in the cottage of Dr. Charles W. Bonner, who was tutoring me. I had a couple of conditions and I stayed until the third of September!"
"Thank you! Thank you! That is all--unless, Mr. Merriwether, you wish to do me and yourself three very great favors. Three!"
He looked at Tom with a sort of intelligent curiosity, as of a chemist conducting an experiment.
"Let's hear what they are," said young Mr. Merriwether, calmly.
It was at times like these that he showed whose son he was--alert, his imagination active, his nerves under control, and his courage steady and at par. He had, moreover, made up his mind that he would do some questioning later on.
"First favor: Concentrate your mind on how you used to spend your bright, sunshiny days in Oleander Point and your beautiful moonlight nights. Recall the pleasant people you were friendly with during those happy weeks. Visualize that summer! Make an effort! Think!"
It was a command, and Tom Merriwether found himself thinking of that summer. He closed his eyes. His grip on the revolver in his pocket relaxed.... He saw his friends. Some of them he had not seen in years. Others he saw almost daily. And somehow it seemed to him that all the girls were pretty and kindly; and in particular--well, there were in particular three. But the affairs had come to nothing.
He could not have told how long his reverie lasted--the mind traverses long stretches of time, as of space, in seconds.
"Thank you," said the man, with the matter-of-fact gratitude a man feels toward a servant for some attention.
He took from his pocket a small black-velvet bag, opened it, and spread on the table before Tom Merriwether a dozen pearls, ranging in size from a pea to a filbert. They were all of a beautiful orient.