{Illustration: “YOU ARE, SIR. JOHN POTTS OF POTTS HALL."}
Brandon rose and bowed. “Am I addressing Mr. John Potts?”
“You are, Sir. John Potts of Potts Hall.”
“Potts of Potts Hall!” repeated Brandon. Then, drawing a card from his pocket he handed it to Potts. He had procured some of these in London. The card read as follows:
BEAMISH & HENDRICKS, FLOUR MERCHANTS & PROVISION DEALERS, 88 FRONT STREET, CINCINNATI, OHIO.
“I, Sir,” said Brandon, “am Mr. Hendricks, junior partner in Beamish & Hendricks, and I hope you are quite well.”
“Very well, thank you,” answered Potts, smiling and sitting down. “I am happy to see you.”
“Do you keep your health, Sir?”
“Thank you, I do,” said Potts. “A touch of rheumatism at odd times, that’s all.”
Brandon’s manner was stiff and formal, and his voice had assumed a slight nasal intonation. Potts had evidently looked on him as a perfect stranger.