The man at the desk drew a long breath and looked up from a slip of paper which he had been studying through a microscope. "Raymond Case, eh? All right, Letty, show him in."
In another moment the visitor was in the private office. Adam Adams arose and gave him a warm handshake.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Case," he said cordially. "I knew your late father quite well—a fine man—a very fine man, indeed. Have a chair and make yourself at home." He noted that his visitor was much agitated and flushed. "Sit down by the window; there is a nice breeze there from across the park."
"Mr. Adams, I would like to see you in private," returned the young man, as he took a seat and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"Very well," and the office door was carefully closed. Then came a brief pause, during which Raymond Case cleared his throat several times.
"Mr. Adams, you do not know much about me, but I know a great deal about you," he commenced. "Three or four years ago you recovered some stolen mining shares for my father, and last year you cleared up the Sandford mystery, after the police and the other detectives had failed completely."
Adam Adams bowed. He rarely spoke unless there was occasion for it.
"May I ask if you are now at liberty?" pursued the young man.
"At liberty? Bless you, no! I have half a dozen cases on hand. Two here in the city—one over in New Jersey—one in Yonkers, and—"
"But you will undertake a case for me, if I pay you well for it, won't you?" interrupted the young man eagerly. "Don't say no—please don't!" And there was a ring of agony in his speech. "I am depending upon you!"