At length the funeral ceremonies were over.
The company who were assembled left the house, and with them James Cromwell. He went back to his room, not feeling that it was of importance to remain longer. He had shown himself at the funeral, he had been recognized, and thus he had paved the way for the interview which he meant to have, and that very shortly.
Two evenings later, he approached the house in Twenty-ninth Street, and ascending the steps, boldly rang the bell.
The servant who answered the summons, looked at him inquiringly, supposing from his appearance that he had merely come to bring some message.
"Is Mr. Morton at home?"
"Yes, he is at home."
"I would like to see him."
"He doesn't see visitors, on account of a death in the family. I will carry your message."
"I must see him," insisted the clerk, boldly.