“I think I will see Mr. Stewart himself,” he said slowly. He half-started to take a card from his pocket. Then he changed the gesture. He was suddenly thinking of the gold coins he had carried there....
“Tell Mr. Stewart, please, that the gentleman who left an order for a Chinese coat—several years ago—would like to speak with him about it.”
There was another long wait—then a boy with buttons and a little proud air escorted him to the top of the building.
“Mr. Stewart don’t see many folks,” he volunteered, as they approached a door.
“Doesn’t he? Then I am fortunate.”
The boy nodded gravely and rapped.
XVII
THE gray-haired man at the desk looked up with a sharp line between the bushy eyebrows. He stared a moment and got up.