“Mr. Merriwether”—the man spoke almost dreamily—“do you know why I asked you to call to-day at eleven?”
“No.”
“Because when you were here yesterday it was after banking hours.”
“And?” The little czar was in a hurry to finish.
“You, Mr. Merriwether, are one of those fortunate mortals about whom the newspapers do not lie.”
“Oh, am I? I take it you haven't seen a newspaper in twelve years.” Mr. Merriwether, after all, was an American. His sense of humor helped to make him great.
“I've read every line that has ever been printed about you—I had to, in order to study you exhaustively. I find that you are acknowledged by both friends and foes to be an intelligent man.”
“Oh yes!”
“A very intelligent man,” continued the man.
“And therefore?” said the very intelligent man.