"Yes."
"I have just had the news. I am shocked. It is a terrible thing."
"Yes," said Bonbright.
"I will come up at once—if you can see me. The death of a man like your father entails certain consequences which cannot be considered too soon. May I come?"
"If you think it is necessary," said Bonbright.
"It is necessary," said Mr. Richmond.
In twenty minutes Richmond was announced and Bonbright went to meet him in the library. Richmond extended his hand with the appropriate bearing for such an occasion. His handshake was a perfect thing, studied, rehearsed, just as all his life was studied and rehearsed. He had in stock a manner and a handshake and a demeanor which could be instantly taken off the shelf and used for any situation which might arise. Richmond was a ready man, an able man. On the whole, he was a good man, as men go, but cut and dried.
"Your father was a notable man," he declared. "He will be missed."
Bonbright bowed.
"There will be a great deal for you to look after," said the lawyer, "so I will be brief. The mass of detail can wait—until after—er—until you have more leisure."