"Gabriel Godlike!" he pronounced the name, and paused in suspense for the answer to the summons.
"Here!" cried a voice of thunder, and through the parted curtains, the imposing form of the statesman emerged into light. His broad chest was clad in a blue coat with bright metal buttons; a white cravat made his bronzed face look yet darker; he advanced with a heavy stride, his great forehead looming boldly in the light, his eyes deep sunken beneath the brows, glaring like living coals. His cheek was flushed,—with wine—or with the excitement of the hour?
Ponderous and gloomy and grand, as when he arose to scatter thunderbolts through the thronged senate,—attired in the same brown coat which he wore on state occasions,—he came to the table, assumed a seat opposite Dr. Martin Fulmer, and said in his deepest bass,—"I am here, and ready for the final settlement of the Van Huyden estate."
It is no shame to Dr. Fulmer to say, that he had rather confronted the entire Seven together, than to have to deal with this man alone. "The estate decreed into those hands, which know neither remorse or fear?"—he shuddered.
Then he called the seventh name,—
"Israel Yorke!"
No delay this time. With a hop and a spring,—spectacles on nose, and sharp gray eyes glancing all about him,—the little financier came through the curtain, and advancing to the table, seated himself beside Godlike, like Mammon on right of Lucifer.
"And I am here," he said, pulling his whiskers, and then running his hand over his bald head,—"Here and ready for the final settlement of the Van Huyden estate."
"And is this all?" ejaculated Martin Fulmer; and once more he called the names of the Seven. There was no response.