“This is personal business, Mr. Riley, and it’s to his own interest to see me.  I can be of service to Mr. Gorham.”

“Ye can be iv service ter Misther Robert, Jimmie?” The old man’s face beamed with pride.  “Ah, Jimmie, it’s proud I am iv ye!  Me own la-ad iv service ter Misther Robert!  I’ll spake ter him at wance.”

As Riley drew back to admire his son, his eye fell upon the silk hat and the black gloves.

“Who’s dead, Jimmie?” he asked, with real concern “—­why do ye wear th’ sorry rag on ye’er hat an’ th’ ravens on ye’er hands?”

“No one you know,” James replied, carelessly flicking a speck from his overcoat sleeve.  “The city supplied them for the committee what went to Moriarty’s funeral last month.”

“Oh!” Riley wavered between his relief and his sense of duty to acquaint his son with the proper usage of the articles in question.  Discretion finally prevailed, and he went up-stairs to impress Mr. Gorham with the importance of Jimmie’s errand.

James Riley had acted upon a sudden impulse in making his call upon Mr. Gorham.  He had unexpectedly gained possession of certain information which he felt might be of commercial value to himself, and beyond this it offered him an opportunity to come in close contact with a famous man.  With his eye always open to the main chance, James felt that this first meeting with Mr. Gorham, since he himself had come into his own, might lead to something worth while.

Even Gorham was conscious of the satisfaction expressed in the old man’s voice as he opened the library door for his famous offspring and announced “Misther James Riley,” dwelling noticeably upon the prefix.

“I am glad to see you, James,” Gorham greeted him cordially.  “Your father has kept me posted from time to time of your successes, and I congratulate you both.”

Praise from the president of the Consolidated Companies was nectar to James Riley, and with an effort to appear indifferent he suffered himself to sit down.

“Your father tells me you have personal business with me,” Gorham continued, noting the difficulty James experienced in getting under way.

The caller would not have admitted it, even to himself, but the effect of being actually in the presence of this man of world-wide fame, and in the midst of such palatial surroundings, was to deprive him of his usual easy flow of words.  Gorham’s remark, however, as was intended, served to relieve him, but the oratorical prelude which he had carefully rehearsed coming up on the electric ’bus had vanished from his mind, and he plunged, as had still another “gentleman” before him, in medias res.

“There’s a feller in town what means to make trouble for you,” he announced, bluntly, looking up from his study of the pattern in the rug to note the effect of his announcement upon his host.

Gorham laughed.  “I have an idea that there is more than one ‘feller’ in town who would be glad to do that if he found the chance.”