His day-dreams and his thoughts were interrupted by finding his wife at his side. She had entered so quietly that he had not heard her footstep, and he gave a gentle start when he felt her hand upon his forehead.

"Yes, dear, I am dreaming," he said, in answer to her unspoken question.

"You don't often see me this way, do you? The world never looked so bright as it does to-day. The Consolidated Companies, the child of your conception and my creation, has reached the zenith of its power. It may grow larger, but even now nothing can resist it."

"The world never looked so bright as it does to-day," Eleanor repeated to herself, sitting on the arm of his chair, thrilled by the message of love which this man sent out to her through the pressure of his hand on hers which he held so closely. Should she be the one to disturb the supreme serenity of his thoughts at this moment by a suggestion of something which perhaps was only the figment of an over-anxious brain?

Inside the battle waged, but he could not see her face, so was ignorant of the conflict. If her hand trembled within his own he did not notice it. She looked down at the profile so clearly outlined. What strength, what sweetness, what contentment! To-morrow she would tell him, but not to-day. This moment was hers, and no past memory had the right to take it from her!

XVII

The strain under which Gorham had been working for the past five years was beginning to show itself, and, acting upon his doctor's advice, he decided to take a brief respite from the cares and responsibilities of the office. He did not think it necessary to leave New York, as the reaction was not as yet strong enough to require any radical treatment.

A fortnight spent quietly at his home in the midst of congenial surroundings would be entirely sufficient. During this time he denied himself to business callers, simply keeping in touch with affairs by means of his daily reports, which formed so strong a feature of his business system.

"They make the yesterdays into a whip of many lashes to urge to-day on to still greater speed," Gorham once explained. "They change the president of the Consolidated Companies from an absentee employer into an ubiquitous superintendent."

Because of Mr. Gorham's desire for retirement, the butler endeavored to explain the impossibility of an interview to a tall, smooth-faced young man who presented his card one afternoon. The caller's slight figure was clad in a black whip-cord suit, and over his arm was thrown a neatly folded tan overcoat. His silk hat carried a broad mourning band, and his hands were encased in black kid gloves. Gorham's would-be visitor did not present the most cheerful appearance, but the insistence with which he emphasized the important nature of his business succeeded in effecting his entrance to the hallway, where he was left until the butler could fortify himself behind the faithful Riley's invaluable advice.

Riley looked at the printed visiting-card, gave a violent start, and then quickly closed his hand over it. A penetrating glance disclosed the fact that the name had conveyed no special information to his companion, so he hastily a.s.sumed the responsibility of handling the situation, and hurried to the hall. Giving the visitor no opportunity to speak, Riley placed his hand gently upon his arm, and addressed him beseechingly.

"Jimmie, me la-ad," the old man said, "is it raly yersel' come ter see ye'er ol' fa-ather? I can't belave it, indade I can't; but 'tain't this we must be talkin' about now. I know it's th' great man ye are, but ye wuddent queer ye'er fa-ather by comin' ter th' front dure, wud ye? Come now, Misther Robert ain't heard about it yit, so it's all right, Jimmie--we'll go down-stairs an' have a nice little visit. It's proud I am ter have ye call on me, but ye mustn't come ter th' front dure, Jimmie--ye mustn't do that."

Riley's anxiety to get his son down-stairs and into his own domain blinded him to the straightness of Jimmie's back and the severe lines in his face. With all the dignity at his command the visitor a.s.sumed a position which perhaps he had learned during his career as an orator:

"You are my father, and an old man," he replied, with rare condescension, "so I will be gentle with you. I didn't call to sec _you_, Mr. Riley--I have important business with Mr. Gorham."

Riley drew back, indecision mingled with a father's pride that a son of his could carry himself with such an air.

"That's phwat brought ye here, is it?--business wid Misther Robert--ye!"

he repeated. "Ah, Jimmie, I can't belave it, me la-ad. Are ye shure?"

"Is it his father who doubts the word of James Riley?" the younger man replied, and Riley thought he discerned a touch of sorrow in the unnatural tone of voice.

"But Misther Robert ain't doin' no business these days, Jimmie. It's th'

vacation he's havin'."

"This is personal business, Mr. Riley, and it's to his own interest to see me. I can be of service to Mr. Gorham."

"Ye can be iv service ter Misther Robert, Jimmie?" The old man's face beamed with pride. "Ah, Jimmie, it's proud I am iv ye! Me own la-ad iv service ter Misther Robert! I'll spake ter him at wance."

As Riley drew back to admire his son, his eye fell upon the silk hat and the black gloves.

"Who's dead, Jimmie?" he asked, with real concern "--why do ye wear th'

sorry rag on ye'er hat an' th' ravens on ye'er hands?"

"No one you know," James replied, carelessly flicking a speck from his overcoat sleeve. "The city supplied them for the committee what went to Moriarty's funeral last month."

"Oh!" Riley wavered between his relief and his sense of duty to acquaint his son with the proper usage of the articles in question.

Discretion finally prevailed, and he went up-stairs to impress Mr.

Gorham with the importance of Jimmie's errand.

James Riley had acted upon a sudden impulse in making his call upon Mr.

Gorham. He had unexpectedly gained possession of certain information which he felt might be of commercial value to himself, and beyond this it offered him an opportunity to come in close contact with a famous man. With his eye always open to the main chance, James felt that this first meeting with Mr. Gorham, since he himself had come into his own, might lead to something worth while.

Even Gorham was conscious of the satisfaction expressed in the old man's voice as he opened the library door for his famous offspring and announced "Misther James Riley," dwelling noticeably upon the prefix.

"I am glad to see you, James," Gorham greeted him cordially. "Your father has kept me posted from time to time of your successes, and I congratulate you both."

Praise from the president of the Consolidated Companies was nectar to James Riley, and with an effort to appear indifferent he suffered himself to sit down.

"Your father tells me you have personal business with me," Gorham continued, noting the difficulty James experienced in getting under way.

The caller would not have admitted it, even to himself, but the effect of being actually in the presence of this man of world-wide fame, and in the midst of such palatial surroundings, was to deprive him of his usual easy flow of words. Gorham's remark, however, as was intended, served to relieve him, but the oratorical prelude which he had carefully rehea.r.s.ed coming up on the electric 'bus had vanished from his mind, and he plunged, as had still another "gentleman" before him, _in medias res_.

"There's a feller in town what means to make trouble for you," he announced, bluntly, looking up from his study of the pattern in the rug to note the effect of his announcement upon his host.

Gorham laughed. "I have an idea that there is more than one 'feller' in town who would be glad to do that if he found the chance."

"That may be, sir," James a.s.sented, "but this feller has come a long bit out of his way to do it, and I don't think it's on the level, sir."

"It is very good of you to come and tell me this, James," Gorham said, lightly; "but I presume our secret service force already have the gentleman on their list."

"Oh, he ain't no gentleman," James corrected him, "and it ain't got nothin' to do with business, sir, so I thought I'd call on you as a friend and tell you what I know."

"What else can it have to do with?" queried Gorham, incredulously, yet humoring James for his father's sake.

"With Mrs. Gorham, sir--leastwise, that's what he says."

Gorham's apathy disappeared, but his visitor observed no change in the calmness of his expression or in the quiet tone in which he spoke.

"You surprise me, James. What sort of man is he?"

"He's a blackguard, sir, and a liar. I'd have told him so, only he was drunk, and I thought he might leak something what would be of interest to you. He says he used to be Mrs. Gorham's husband."

The lines deepened a little in Gorham's face. "What is his name?" he asked.

"Buckner, sir--Ralph Buckner."

"H'm! And why do you think he intends to try to make trouble for me?"

"Well, sir, you see it's this way. This feller come to the same boardin'-house where I live, but I didn't pay no attention to him 'til I see him playin' pool in the saloon opposite. I'm a Tammany man, sir, and I has to mix with all the new ones what come into my ward. I got acquainted with him over there, and he drank awful heavy. He's quiet enough when he's sober, but he talks free and easy like when he gets tanked. One night he says to me, 'I'm goin' to make a lot o' money.'

"'Good!' says I, more to be agreeable than because I had any 'special interest--'how're you goin' to do it?'

"Then he laughed, silly-like, and winked at me. I didn't say no more, but the next night he talked again.