“Sit down! Sit down!” he said authoritatively, and patting the cushion with his strong, brawny hand; and, as if powerless to disobey, the haughty banker sank down beside him.
“Light a cigar if you want to smoke,” the man continued, as he glanced at the costly case in his companion’s hand, “it may serve to quiet your nerves after the start they’ve had. I have my pipe here.”
“Thank you; but I will smoke later,” said the banker, as he slipped his case into a pocket, while he waited with a set and rigid face for what might follow.
His companion smiled again, and coolly looked him over, from the silk traveling-cap upon his head to the fine, highly polished shoes upon his feet.
“Ahem! you look as if the world had used you pretty well,” he remarked laconically, at length.
“Yes, I have made some money during the last few years,” was the brief but rather complacent reply, while a gleam of evil triumph leaped into his eyes as he now observed, for the first time, the rather shabby duster that lay over the back of the seat in front of him, and the well-worn grip underneath it.
“Where did you make your money?”
“Some of it in Colorado—some in California.”
“Humph! Been quite a traveler, haven’t you? Been in the mining business, I suppose.”
“Yes; part of the time.”