“I presume, Mr. Lindholm,” he said, “that you would have no objection to my man of business looking up your rating in Madison?”
“Go as far as you like. What you will find will be satisfactory.”
“It is,” Monmouth smiled. “I wish I had half the money that you have. I should consider myself rich enough and God knows my tastes are not simple.”
“So you had me investigated?” Trent smiled a little. “When?”
Trent had found that the assumption of a name might be dangerous if investigations were made concerning it. It was with his customary caution that he had taken Lindholm’s name. David Moor, his little detective, often spoke of his cases to his patron. He had spoken at length about the case of Oscar Lindholm of Madison, Wisconsin. A lumber millionaire, Oscar came to New York to have a good time in the traditional manner of wealthy men from far states. A joyride in which a man was run down figured prominently in his first night’s entertainment. Fearing that the notoriety of this would affect his political aspirations in the west he was sentenced to a month on Blackwell’s Island under an assumed name. During this month his name could safely be used. The day that Trent became a member of the household at Elm Lodge the real Lindholm had ten days more to serve.
The wardrobe which Trent had gathered about him was utterly unlike his own perfect outfit. He conceived Oscar Lindholm to be without refinements and he dressed the part. He could see Captain Monmouth shudder as he came into the drawing room on the night of his arrival. Lindholm wore a Prince Albert coat and wore it aggressively.
His patent leather shoes had those hideous knobs on them wherein a dozen toes might hide themselves.
“My dear man,” gasped Monmouth, “we dress for dinner always.”
“What’s the matter with me?” the indignant guest asked.