While he was thus engaged, a young man, faultlessly apparelled and pleasing to look upon, stood in front of him, regarded him steadily for a moment, and then grasped his hand, exclaiming:
"If it isn't old Dick Peveril—come to life again after an age of burial! My dear fellow, I am awfully glad to see you. Where have you been, and what have you been doing all these years? Heard you had gone West to look up a mine, but never a word since. Hope you found it and that it turned out better than such properties generally do. Was it gold, silver, iron, or what?"
"You may imagine its nature from its name," answered Peveril, who was genuinely glad to meet again his old college friend, Jack Langdon; "it is called the 'Copper Princess.'"
"The 'Copper Princess'!" cried the other. "By Jove! you don't say so! Why, that mine is the talk of Wall Street, and if you own any part in it, you must be a millionaire!"
"Not quite that," laughed Peveril, "though I am not exactly what you might call poor."
"I should say not, and only wish I stood in your shoes; but, you see—" Here Langdon plunged into a long account of his own affairs, to which Peveril listened patiently. Finally the former said:
"By the way, what have you on hand for to-night?"
"Nothing in particular. Was thinking of going to some theatre."
"Don't you do it! Beastly shows, all of them. Nothing but vaudeville nowadays. Come with me and I'll take you to a place where you will not only have a pleasant time, but will meet old friends as well. You remember old Owen?—'Dig' Owen, we used to call him."
"Yes."