At the desk sat a man of uncertain age, with a strong face, a somewhat bald head, and eyes that were neither light nor dark.  The man was of ordinary height, but muscular to a surprising degree.  His face showed a high order of intelligence and his mouth a determination not easily thrust aside.

“A gentleman to see you,” said the young lady.  She placed the card before him.  “He told me to tell you that he is the son of the late Wilbur Case, and wishes to see you on important business.”

The man at the desk drew a long breath and looked up from a slip of paper which he had been studying through a microscope.  “Raymond Case, eh?  All right, Letty, show him in.”

In another moment the visitor was in the private office.  Adam Adams arose and gave him a warm handshake.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Case,” he said cordially.  “I knew your late father quite well—­a fine man—­a very fine man, indeed.  Have a chair and make yourself at home.”  He noted that his visitor was much agitated and flushed.  “Sit down by the window; there is a nice breeze there from across the park.”

“Mr. Adams, I would like to see you in private,” returned the young man, as he took a seat and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

“Very well,” and the office door was carefully closed.  Then came a brief pause, during which Raymond Case cleared his throat several times.

“Mr. Adams, you do not know much about me, but I know a great deal about you,” he commenced.  “Three or four years ago you recovered some stolen mining shares for my father, and last year you cleared up the Sandford mystery, after the police and the other detectives had failed completely.”

Adam Adams bowed.  He rarely spoke unless there was occasion for it.

“May I ask if you are now at liberty?” pursued the young man.

“At liberty?  Bless you, no!  I have half a dozen cases on hand.  Two here in the city—­one over in New Jersey—­one in Yonkers, and—­”

“But you will undertake a case for me, if I pay you well for it, won’t you?” interrupted the young man eagerly.  “Don’t say no—­please don’t!” And there was a ring of agony in his speech.  “I am depending upon you!”

The detective paused before replying, and looked the young man over with care.  The clean-cut features showed not a sign of dissipation, and the expression was honesty itself.  Certainly the young man had not gotten into trouble on his own account.

“I should want to know something about the case before I promised to do anything.”

“Certainly—­of course—­” The young man cleared his throat again.

“You can tell me what the trouble is and if I decline to take the case I will give you my promise not to say a word to any outsider of what has passed between us.”

“Oh, I know I can trust you, Mr. Adams, otherwise I should not have called here.  My father said you were the squarest man he had ever dealt with.  I came to see you about the Langmore affair.”