"That depends," he replied carelessly, "on how—a—a—business venture of mine turns out."
Now at close range, Stafford scrutinized his guest more narrowly. Quickly he took note of his ill-fitting clothes, cheap tie, frayed linen and shabby shoes. He hardly looked the kind of man likely to be burdened with heavy business responsibilities. Nodding sympathetically, so as to encourage confidence, he said:
"I see. What business are you in, Mr. Gillie?"
"I'm a shipping clerk."
"Then you are not in business for yourself?"
"No—that is, not now—though I hope to be some day. You see, I have ambitions."
The millionaire nodded approvingly.
"That's right. Every young man should be ambitious."
"I want to do something big," went on his vis-à-vis confidently. "I have the ability. All I need is the chance to prove it."
"H'm," said Stafford, with a slight tinge of scepticism in his voice. "In what direction do you think your talents lie, Mr. Gillie?"