A shadow flitted across his mind. It was J. Arthur Boast’s inquiry in regard to Louise Bonifield. “But why should I be so ready to come to her rescue? What right have I to be her champion? They may be old acquaintances, but they certainly are not friends. She is too noble a character to form an alliance of friendship with such an individual as Boast. He is critical, cold, calculating, and, I believe, unprincipled.”
Walking on in an aimless way, he followed a path that led by Gray Rocks on toward the Peacock. Presently he saw a well-dressed man in middle life walking toward him. There was an unmistakable look of good living and prosperity—a general air of superiority about him. His round, fat face was smooth shaven, except a bristly dark moustache. His nose was large and obtrusive. In his shirt front glistened a diamond of great value, while its counterpart reflected the morning sun from a massive ring on one of his fat, short fingers.
“Good morning,” said he.
Vance returned the salutation, and presently the pompous stranger introduced himself as Rufus Grim, owner of the Peacock.
“Yes, I have heard of you,” replied Vance.
"You’re the young man from New York, I reckon,” said Grim.
“New York is my home.”