There was a knock at the door the next morning. Duncan opened the door and admitted Abdul, his Hindu servant. The man was carrying a breakfast tray.

"It was time for you to awake, sahib. I have brought breakfast."

"Abdul," asked Duncan, as he began his meal, "did you hear any one outside last night?"

"No, sahib. At what time of the night?"

"I don't know. Didn't you hear a whistle?"

"No, sahib. What did sahib eat last night?"

"Nothing that would have kept me awake," answered Duncan. "I had an early dinner in the city, and I read for a while in the evening, after I came home. I did eat one of those peppermints in the dish over there on the table not long before I went to bed."

The Hindu went to the table. He took a peppermint from the dish and tasted it.

"At what time did sahib go to bed?" he asked. "You will recall, sahib, that I was not here."

"That's right," replied Duncan. "You went out for the evening, after I came in, didn't you? I guess it was about midnight when I retired."

"Sahib had dreams last night?"

Duncan hesitated a moment before replying.

"Unusual dreams," he said. "They were very vivid, as though they were real. They seemed like something was going to happen — as if I were waiting."

"And time went very slowly?" questioned Abdul.

"Yes," admitted Duncan. "Why do you ask that, Abdul?"

"The peppermint," said the Hindu, "tastes to me different. It is like something that we have in India — something from a bush that grows in the wild."

"What is it?" questioned Duncan.

"It makes men sleep. It makes them dream. To them the minutes seem like the hours. To them the hours seem like the days. The things they see are strange."

* * *

A sudden thought came to Duncan. "You mean hashish," he said.

"That is it, sahib," replied the Hindu.

"You think the peppermints contain hashish?"

"It seems to me like that, sahib."

"Then I was drugged last night. Who did it? Why? Where did you get these peppermints, Abdul? Who brought them?"

"I shall answer you, sahib," replied the Hindu. "I shall tell you all. I was in the house all day. I came in this room often, as you have told me to do. At the door of the house I found the package that you had told the man to send. In it was the peppermints. So I brought them here."

"Yes," said Duncan, "I've been having them send mints up every day or two. I've been chewing them at nights — makes the cigarettes taste better with a few mints in between. But how did these mints come to be in the package?"

Abdul shrugged his shoulders.

Duncan was thoughtful when the Hindu left the room. He trusted his Hindu servant — Abdul had been with him for five years — yet it was strange that the man should have so promptly diagnosed the cause of Duncan's peculiar sleep the night before. But why had Abdul mentioned the fact if he had had anything to do with it?

The Hindu returned with the morning mail. It contained a letter from Duncan's lawyer. The young man read the message:

Please call at my office at your earliest convenience. This is very important, and I will expect to see you shortly. ROBERT CHALMERS TREMAINE.

Two hours later, Duncan was seated in the lawyer's office, facing Tremaine across a large mahogany desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Duncan," said the lawyer in a voice that suited his pompous appearance. "I have interesting news for you."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Your uncle, Mr. Duncan, was an interesting man. You, as his heir, received rather unusual instructions, which I understand you have followed, in order to comply with the terms of his legacy."

"Correct, Mr. Tremaine," said Duncan. "I have lived in Uncle Harvey's house since the day he died. I have slept in the front room which he occupied, as his will instructed. During the day, my servant has been there continually — except when I have been at home."

The lawyer smiled.

"Those instructions," he said, "were left with a purpose. What the purpose was, I do not know. I was your uncle's attorney, but he did not take me into his confidence on that matter. Some time before his death, however, your uncle told me that he intended to impart some information to you before he died.

He was unable to do this as he passed away the day you reached the city. He was calling for you when he died."

"So I have been told," said Duncan soberly.

"Your uncle anticipated that something might prevent him giving you his message — which proved to be the case — so he left a sealed envelope with me. It was to be delivered to you on this date."

Bruce Duncan studied the long, heavy envelope that Tremaine handed him.

The lawyer thereupon ushered him into a smaller room, to a table in the midst of book-lined walls.

"You will not be disturbed here."

Alone, the young man tore open the envelope which was of cloth texture inside. He withdrew several folded sheets of paper. The inner page carried a message in clearly legible longhand. Bruce recognized it as his uncle's writing.

As he scanned the firmly written lines, astonishment came over him. He began to understand not only why his uncle had left such unusual instructions regarding the occupancy of the house, but, also, he gained an inkling of the significance of last night's experience.