“No,” he answered. “That can wait. I shall have my hair cut.”
“You bear a striking resemblance to a man I once knew,” said the old gentleman, after a pause.
“What was his name?” asked Bernard, with natural curiosity.
“Clayton Brooks.”
“That was my father,” said Bernard quickly.
“Is it possible? That accounts for the resemblance. Is your father living?”
“No, sir; he died ten years ago.”
“I supposed he must be dead, as I had lost track of him.”
“Did you know him well?” asked Bernard eagerly.
“Quite well. We were both traveling salesmen. He traveled for a jewelry firm in Maiden Lane, I for a dry goods house. Our territory was in large part the same, and we often stayed at the same hotel. Is your mother living?”