The moment Mr. Jordon had gone Mr. Chambers wrote a line, requesting full information about Rogers, and enclosed it in an envelope which he addressed to the man who usually served him in such confidential matters. He touched a button and handed the note to his secretary. "See that Mr. Hawkins gets this at once," he said.
That afternoon a man, whom David afterward remembered as a diamond ring, a diamond shirt-stud and a heavy gold watch-chain, walked into the office of John Rogers.
"Is this Mr. Rogers?" he asked of David, who was alone in the room.
"No. Aldrich is my name. But I represent him. Can I do anything for you?"
"I'd like to see him if I can. I'm thinking of investing in some real estate in this neighbourhood, and I've been looking at a couple of houses that I was told he was agent for."
"I'll call him—wait a minute."
David went into the living room, and at once returned. "Mr. Rogers will be right in," he said.
"Thanks." The man turned his pinkish face about the room. "Cosy little office you've got, for this part of town," he remarked, with an air of speaking pleasantries to kill time.
"Yes—we think so."