“You don’t mean it!” cried that worthy gentleman, springing up and clasping the financier’s hand. “Mr. Ames! So magnanimous! Ah––the amount?”
“Well, will half a million do?” suggested Ames.
The minister reflected a moment. One should not be too precipitate in accepting tentative benefactions. “Ah––we really should have––ah––a trifle more, Mr. Ames. There’s the settlement home, and the commons, you know, and––”
“Humph! Well, we’ll start with half a million,” replied Ames dryly. “By the way, you know Jurges, eh? Reverend William Jurges? Er––have you any particular influence with him, if I may ask?” His sharp eyes bored straight through the wondering divine.
“Why––yes––yes, I know the gentleman. And, as for influence––well, I may––”
“Yes, just so,” put in Ames. “Now there is a trial coming up this week, and Jurges will be called to the stand. I want you to give him the true facts in regard to it. I’ll call Hood, and we’ll go over them in detail now. Then you see Jurges this afternoon, and––say, he’s raising a building fund too, isn’t he?”
The magnate summoned Hood again; and for an hour the trio discussed the forthcoming trial of the unfortunate Philip O. Ketchim. Then Ames dismissed the clergyman, and bade his office boy admit the young lawyer, Cass, who had come in response to Hood’s request.
For some moments after Cass entered the office Ames stood regarding him, studying what manner of man he was, and how best to approach him. Then he opened the conversation by a casual reference to the unsatisfactory business situation which obtained throughout the country, and expressed wonder that young men just starting in their professions managed to make ends meet.
“But,” he concluded with deep significance, “better go hungry than take on any class of business which, though promising good money returns, nevertheless might eventually prove suicidal.” He looked hard at the young lawyer when he paused.