“Would you be kind enough to tell me the nature of your business, sir?”
Gourley, the cashier, insanely hated book agents, and his one pleasure in life consisted of violently ejecting them from the office. When a man clearly established his innocence Gourley never forgave him for cheating him out of the kicking.
The stranger said, very slowly:
“The nature of my business with Mr. Richards is private, personal, and urgent!”
The stranger might, be a customer, and customers make brokers rich and give wages to cashiers.
“Mr. Richards is very busy just now, sir, with an important conference. It would be a favor if you could let me have your name.”
“He doesn't know me and he has never heard my name.”
“Would any one else do?”
The stranger shook his head. Then:
“Say to Mr. Richards that a gentleman from Paris wishes to give to him—personally—ten letters of introduction, one card of same, and one life secret.” The man's gaze was fixed frowningly on Gourley.