So, at quarter-past six. Warner Powell found himself in the office of the hotel. He was assigned a room on the third floor.
After making his toilet, he went down to supper. At the table with him were two gentlemen who, from their conversation, appeared to be residents of the city. They were discussing the coming municipal election.
"I tell you, Browning will be our mayor," said one. "His reputation as a philanthropist will elect him."
"I never took much stock in his claims on that score."
"He belongs to all the charitable societies, and is generally an officer."
"That may be; how much does he give himself?"
"I don't know. I suppose he is a liberal subscriber."
"He wants to give that impression, but the man is as selfish as the average. He is said to be a hard landlord, and his tenants get very few favors."
"I am surprised to hear that."
"He is trading on his philanthropy. It would be interesting to learn where his wealth came from. I should not be surprised if he were more smart than honest."