At the Office of Mr. Codicil.
In one of the large business buildings appropriated chiefly to offices, within a stone's throw of Printing-House Square, were the commodious offices of Nathan Codicil, a prominent lawyer, whose business related chiefly to the estates of wealthy clients.
Mr. Codicil himself was a dignified-looking gentleman, of grave aspect, whose whitening locks seemed to indicate that he had reached the age of threescore. He was a cautious, careful, trustworthy man, whose reputation was deservedly high.
Mr. Grafton and Ben, stepping out of the elevator, paused before the door of Mr. Codicil's office for a moment, when the former opened the door and entered.
"You may sit down here, Philip, while I go in and speak to Mr. Codicil," said Mr. Grafton, indicating a chair near the door.
"I wish he wouldn't call me Philip," thought Ben. "I like my own name much better."
He did not complain aloud, however, for he felt that his salary was liberal enough to compensate him for some slight sacrifice of feeling.
"Good morning, Mr. Grafton," said the lawyer, advancing to meet his visitor.
"Good morning, Mr. Codicil; I am glad to find you in, for I've made quite an effort to reach your office at an early hour. You observe I have brought the boy with me."