As he spoke he flung open the door and the Count entered. It cannot be said that the atmosphere of the room was congenial. The three occupants were regarding one another in hostile silence, and as the Count entered they, with one accord, transferred their suspicious glances to him.
For a moment he stood motionless, while he looked at each one in turn. Then he stepped forward....
“Good evening, gentlemen”—he still spoke in French—“I am honoured at your presence.” He turned to the head waiter. “Let dinner be served in five minutes exactly.”
With a bow the man left the room, and the door closed.
“During that five minutes, gentlemen, I propose to introduce myself to you, and you to one another.” As he spoke he divested himself of his coat and hat. “The business which I wish to discuss we will postpone, with your permission, till after the coffee, when we shall be undisturbed.”
In silence the three guests waited while he unwound the thick white muffler; then, with undisguised curiosity, they studied their host. In appearance he was striking. He had a short dark beard, and in profile his face was aquiline and stern. The eyes, which had so impressed the manager, seemed now to be a cold grey-blue; the thick brown hair, flecked slightly with grey, was brushed back from a broad forehead. His hands were large and white; not effeminate, but capable and determined: the hands of a man who knew what he wanted, knew how to get it, and got it. To even the most superficial observer the giver of the feast was a man of power: a man capable of forming instant decisions and of carrying them through....
And if so much was obvious to the superficial observer, it was more than obvious to the three men who stood by the fire watching him. They were what they were simply owing to the fact that they were not superficial servers of humanity; and each one of them, as he watched his host, realised that he was in the presence of a great man. It was enough: great men do not send fool invitations to dinner to men of international repute. It mattered not what form his greatness took—there was money in greatness, big money. And money was their life....
The Count advanced first to the American.
“Mr. Hocking, I believe,” he remarked in English, holding out his hand. “I am glad you managed to come.”
The American shook the proffered hand, while the two Germans looked at him with sudden interest. As the man at the head of the great American cotton trust, worth more in millions than he could count, he was entitled to their respect....