“Oh, no,” laughed Grinnell, “my father-in-law is. But even he is not in your class.”
“Come and see me anyhow. There is no telling what class you will be in.” In his mild earnestness and soft voice there was an unmistakable promise. The young man did not answer. Dawson now smiled affably.
“Mr. Grinnell, you are still one of our depositors, you know,” he said, with an air of claiming family relationship.
“Yes; to the extent of $342. I’ll give that to the detectives who—Oh, no offence, Mr. Dawson. I’m sorry I must leave you. We married men have trials.” He shook hands warmly with Mr. Herzog, nodded pleasantly to Dawson and Mellen, and said: “Good-morning, gentlemen.”
As the door closed on George Kitchell Grinnell, Mellen, thinking of the new working alliance he must effect with Herzog in order to facilitate the campaign of retreat and re-conquest, turned to the Hebrew banker and said quietly, “Now, Herzog let us get down to business.”