"Well, I have an appointment with Mr. Bivens at this hour."
"Really!" the reporter gasped. "Then for heaven's sake give me a chance at you five minutes before the other fellows. Remember now, I saw you first!"
He was still pleading when Stuart smilingly drew away and followed one of Bivens's secretaries.
He passed rapidly through a labyrinth of outer offices, each entrance guarded by a detective who eyed him with keen scrutiny as he passed.
Bivens came forward to greet him with outstretched hands.
"I needn't say I'm glad to see you, Jim. How do you like my new quarters?"
"Absolutely stunning. I had no idea you cultivated such ceremonial splendours in your business."
"Yes, I like it," the financier admitted thoughtfully. "I don't mind confessing to you on the sly that it was Nan's idea, at first, but I took to it like a duck to water. And the more I see of it the better I like it."
Bivens stood warming himself before a cheerful blaze of logs while he spoke and Stuart had quietly taken a seat and watched him with growing interest.
In spite of his contempt for the mere possession of money, in spite of his traditional contempt for Bivens's antecedents, character and business methods he found himself unconsciously paying homage to the power the little dark swarthy figure to-day incarnated.