The lawyer, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his companion, gave his orders, and the waiter brought first a bit of caviar on toast. If Sylvester expected this delicacy to produce astonished comments, he was disappointed.

"Well, well!" exclaimed Captain Elisha. "I declare, you take me back a long ways, Mr. Sylvester. Caviar! Well, well! Why, I haven't ate this since I used to go to Cronstadt. At the American consul's house there we had it often enough. Has a kind of homey taste even yet. That consul was a good feller. He and I were great friends.

"I met him a long spell after that, when I was down in Mexico," he went on. "He'd made money and was down on a vacation. My ship was at Acapulco, and he and I used to go gunnin' together, after wild geese and such. Ho! ho! I remember there was a big, pompous critter of an Englishman there. Mind you, I'm not talkin' against the English. Some of the best men I ever met were English, and I've stood back to back with a British mate on a Genoa wharf when half of Italy was hoppin' around makin' proclamations that they was goin' to swallow us alive. And, somehow or 'nother, they didn't. Took with prophetic indigestion, maybe.

"However, this Englishman at Acapulco was diff'rent. He was so swelled with importance that his back hollered in like Cape Cod Bay on the map.

His front bent out to correspond, though, so I cal'late he averaged up all right. Well, he heard about what a good--that I was pretty lucky when it come to shootin' wild geese, and I'm blessed if he didn't send me orders to get him one for a dinner he was goin' to give. Didn't ask--_ordered_ me to do it, you understand. And him nothin' but a consignee, with no more control over me than the average female Sunday-school teacher has over a cla.s.s of boys. Not so much, because she's supposed to have official authority, and he wa'n't. _And_ he didn't invite me to the dinner.

"Well, the next time my friend, the ex-consul, and I went out gunnin', I told him of the Englishman's 'orders.' He was mad. 'What are you goin'

to do about it?' he asks. 'Don't know yet,' says I, 'we'll see.' By and by we come in sight of one of them long-legged cranes, big birds you know, standin' fishin' at the edge of some reeds. I up with my gun and shot it. The consul chap looked at me as if I was crazy. 'What in the world did you kill that fish-basket on stilts for?' he says. 'Son,'

says I, 'your eyesight is bad. That's a British-American goose. Chop off about three feet of neck and a couple of fathom of hind legs and pick and clean what's left, and I shouldn't wonder if 'twould make a good dinner for a mutual friend of ours--good _enough_, anyhow.' Well, sir!

that ex-consul set plump down in the mud and laughed and laughed. Ho, ho! Oh, dear me!"

"Did you send it to the Englishman?" asked Sylvester.

"Oh, yes, I sent it. And, after a good while and in a roundabout way, I heard that the whole dinner party vowed 'twas the best wild goose they ever ate. So I ain't sure just who the joke was on. However, I'm satisfied with my end. Well, there! I guess you must think I'm pretty talky on short acquaintance, Mr. Sylvester. You'll have to excuse me; that caviar set me to thinkin' about old times."

His host was shaking all over. "Go ahead, Captain," he cried. "Got any more as good as that?"

But Captain Elisha merely smiled and shook his head.

"Don't get me started on Mexico," he observed. "I'm liable to yarn all the rest of the afternoon. Let's see, we was goin' to talk over my brother's business a little mite, wa'n't we?"

"Why, yes, we should. Now, Captain Warren, just how much do you know about your late brother's affairs?"

"Except what Mr. Graves told me, nothin' of importance. And, afore we go any further, let me ask a question. Do _you_ know why 'Bije made me his executor and guardian and all the rest of it?"

"I do not. Graves drew his will, and so, of course, we knew of your existence and your appointment. Your brother forbade our mentioning it, but we did not know, until after his death, that his own children were unaware they had an uncle. It seems strange, doesn't it?"

"It does to me; _so_ strange that I can't see two lengths ahead. I cal'late Mr. Graves told you how I felt about it?"

"Yes. That is, he said you were very much surprised."

"That's puttin' it mild enough. And did he tell you that 'Bije and I hadn't seen each other, or even written, in eighteen years?"

"Yes."

"Um-hm. Well, when you consider _that_, can you wonder I was set all aback? And the more I think of it, the foggier it gets. Why, Mr.

Sylvester, it's one of them situations that are impossible, that you can prove fifty ways _can't_ happen. And yet, it has--it sartinly has.

Now tell me: Are you, or your firm, well acquainted with my brother's affairs?"

"Not well, no. The late Mr. Warren was a close-mouthed man, rather secretive, in fact."

"Humph! that bein' one of the p'ints where he was different from his nighest relation, hey?"

"I'm not so sure. Have you questioned the children?"

"Caroline and Steve? Yes, I've questioned 'em more than they think I have, maybe. And they know--well, leavin' out about the price of oil paintin's and the way to dress and that it's more or less of a disgrace to economize on twenty thousand a year, their worldly knowledge ain't too extensive."

"Do you like them?"

"I guess so. Just now ain't the fairest time to judge 'em. You see they're sufferin' from the joyful shock of their country relation droppin' in, and--"

He paused and rubbed his chin. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were not. Sylvester noted their expression, and guessed many things.

"They haven't been disagreeable, I hope?" he asked.

"No-o. No, I wouldn't want to say that. They're young and--and, well, I ain't the kind they've been used to. Caroline's a nice girl. She is, sure. All she needs is to grow a little older and have the right kind of advice and--and friends."

"How about the boy?" Mr. Sylvester had met young Warren, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke.

"Steve? Well," there was an answering twinkle in Captain Elisha's eye; "well, Steve needs to grow, too; though I wouldn't presume to tell him so. When a feller's undertakin' to give advice to one of the seven wise men, he has to be diplomatic, as you might say."

The lawyer put back his head and laughed uproariously.

"Ha! ha!" he crowed. "That's good! Then, from your questioning of the children, you've learned--?"

"Not such an awful lot. I think I've learned that--hum! that a good guardian might be a handy thing to have in the house. A reg'lar legal guardian, I mean. Otherwise--"

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise there might be too many disinterested volunteer subst.i.tutes for the job. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it."

"Have you made up your mind to be that guardian?"

"Not yet. I haven't made up my mind to anything yet. Now, Mr. Sylvester, while we're waitin' for what comes next--you've ordered enough grub to victual a ship--s'pose you just run over what your firm knows about 'Bije. That is, if I ain't askin' too much."

"Not at all. That's what I'm here for. You have a right to know. But I warn you my information isn't worth much."

He went on, briefly and with the conciseness of the legal mind, to tell of A. Rodgers Warren, his business and his estate. He had been a broker with a seat on the Stock Exchange.

"That seat is worth consider'ble, ain't it?" interrupted the captain.

"Between eighty and one hundred thousand dollars."

"Yup. Well, it reminds me of a picture I saw once in one of the comic papers. An old feller from the backwoods somewheres--good deal like me, he was, and just about as green--was pictured standin' along with his city nephew in the gallery of the Exchange. And the nephew says, 'Uncle,' says he, 'do you realize that a seat down there's wuth seventy-five thousand dollars?' 'Gosh!' says the old man, 'no wonder most of 'em are standin' up.' Ho! ho! Is that seat of 'Bije's part of the five hundred thousand you figger he's left?"

"Yes, in a way it is. To be truthful, Captain Warren, we're not sure as to the amount of your brother's tangible a.s.sets. Graves made a hurried examination of the stocks, bonds, and memoranda, and estimated the total, that's all."

"I see. Well, heave ahead."

The lawyer went on. The dead broker's office had been on Broad Street.

A small office, with but two clerks. One of the clerks was retained, and the office, having been leased for a year by its former tenant, was still open pending the settlement of the estate. A. Rodgers Warren personally was a man who looked older than he really was, a good liver, and popular among his companions.

"What sort of fellers were his companions?" asked Captain Elisha.

"You mean his friends in society, or his companions downtown in Wall Street?"

"The Wall Street ones. I guess I can find out something about the society ones. Anyhow, I can try. These Wall Streeters that 'Bije chummed with--a quiet lot, was they?"