I had often heard my father speak of my uncle @Revis, who went to @America almost twenty years before I was born. Now he was my nearest living relative. No news of him had reached us for many years before my father died. I was familiar with his handwriting and the specimen before me was either genuine, or a very clever forgery. If it were genuine, Revis had obviously not heard of my father's death.
Extraordinary as the message was, the messenger was more so. He sat looking at me with a strange, half-crazed expression on his face.
"When did you leave my uncle?" I asked.
He sat perfectly still, as if unaware that I had spoken.
I drew my chair to his side and repeated the words in a loud voice, but he still did not seem to hear me. Evidently the old man could neither hear nor speak. In a moment he began groping in his pockets, then he pulled out and handed me a card that contained the following words:
"If you can come, tear this card in half and return the right half to him."
I examined the card carefully. The words were undoubtedly in my uncle's handwriting. The back of the card was covered with strange characters in red ink. I tore the card as directed and handed the man the right half.
He held it up to the light and examined it carefully, then put it away in a pocket of his overcoat. The look of pain returned to his face, and he coughed feebly, as if suffering from a severe cold. As it was getting late, I indicated, by pantomime, that I was offering to help him get to my bed. He understood me well enough and began feebly to remove his clothing, while I prepared a sofa for myself.
