About nine o'clock that same night a certain rich man, having established himself comfortably under the reading lamp, a fine book in his hands and a fine after-dinner cigar between his teeth, was exceedingly resentful when his butler knocked, entered, and presented a card.
"My orders were that I was not at home to any one."
"Yes, sir. But he said you would see him because he came to see you regarding a Mr. Gregory."
"What?"
"Yes, sir."
"Damn these newspapers! ... Wait, wait!" the banker called, for the butler was starting for the door to carry the anathema to the appointed head. "Bring him in. He's a big bug, and I can't afford to affront him."
"Yes, sir" - with the colourless tone of a perfect servant.
When the visitor entered he stopped just beyond the threshold. He remained there even after the butler closed the door. Blue eye and gray clashed; two masters of fence who had executed the same stroke.
The banker laughed and Cutty smiled.
"I suppose," said the banker, "you and I ought to sign an armistice, too."
"Agreed."
"And you've always been rather a puzzle to me. A rich man, a gentleman, and yet sticking to the newspaper game."
"And you're a puzzle to me, too. A rich man, a gentleman, and yet sticking to the banking game."
"What the devil was our row about?"
"Can't quite recall."
"Whatever it was it was the way you went at it."
"A reform was never yet accomplished by purring and pussyfooting," said Cutty.
"Come over and sit down. Now, how the devil did you find out about this Gregory affair?" The banker held out his hand, which Cutty grasped with honest pressure. "If you are here in the capacity of a newspaper man, not a word out of me. Have a cigar?"
"I never smoke anything but pipes that ruin curtains. You should have given your name to Miss Conover."
"I was under promise not to explain my business. But before we proceed, an answer. Newspaper?"
"No. I represent the Department of Justice. And we'll get along easier when I add that I possess rather unlimited powers under that head. How did you happen to stumble into this affair?"
"Through Captain Rathbone, my prospective son-in-law, who is in Coblenz. A cable arrived this morning, instructing me to proceed precisely in the manner I did. Rathbone is an intimate friend of the man I was actually seeking. The apartment of this man Gregory was mentioned to Rathbone in a cable as a possible temporary abiding place. What do you want to know?"
"Whether or not he is undesirable."
"Decidedly, I should say, desirable."
"You make that statement as an American citizen?"
"I do. I make it unreservedly because my future son-in-law is rather a difficult man to make friends with. I am acting merely as Rathbone's agent. On the other hand, I should be a cheerful liar if I told you I wasn't interested. What do you know?"
"Everything," answered Cutty, quietly.
"You know where this young man is?"
"At this moment he is in my apartment, rather seriously battered and absolutely penniless."
"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed! You know who he is, of course?"
"Yes. And I want all your information so that I may guide my future actions accordingly. If he is really undesirable he shall be deported the moment he can stand on his two feet."
The banker pyramided his fingers, rather pleased to learn that he could astonish this interesting beggar. "He has on account at my bank half a million dollars. Originally he had eight hundred thousand. The three hundred thousand, under cable orders from Yokohama, was transferred to our branch in San Francisco. This was withdrawn about two weeks ago. How does that strike you?"
"All in a heap," confessed Cutty. "When was this fund established with you?"
"Shortly before Kerensky's government blew up. The funds were in our London bank. There was, of course, a lot of red tape, excessive charges in exchange, and all that. Anyhow, about eight hundred thousand arrived."
"What brought him to America? Why didn't he go to England? That would have been the safest haven."
"I can explain that. He intends to become an American citizen. Some time ago he became the owner of a fine cattle ranch in Montana."
"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed, too!" exploded Cutty.
"A young man with these ideas in his head ought eventually to become a first-rate citizen. What do you say?"
"I am considerably relieved. His forbears, the blood - "
"His mother was a healthy Italian peasant - a famous singer in her time. His fortune, I take it, was his inheritance from her. She made a fortune singing in the capitals of Europe and speculating from time to time. She sent the boy, at the age of ten, to England.
