“I never waste time, Mr. Jerrold,” said Mr. Stillinghast, after he had closed the door, and resumed his seat; “I never waste any thing—­time or words.  I am blunt and candid, and aboveboard.  I hate the world generally, because I have been deceived in every thing I ever placed faith in.  I am a bitter, harsh, penurious old man.”

“Your life has been without reproach, sir,” observed Mr. Jerrold, who wondered what strange revelation was to be made.

“No compliments; they nauseate me.  I sent for you this morning to propose something which you may, or may not, accede to, there being a condition annexed that may not be altogether agreeable.  But however it may be, I wish you to understand distinctly that I do it to suit my own ends and pleasure, and if I could do otherwise I would.”

“I am very confident, sir, that you will not propose any thing to me incompatible with honor and integrity,” said Walter Jerrold.

“No, sir.  No; it is a fair bargain—­a fair, honest, business transaction I offer, by which you will gain not only credit, but profit.  In view of this object, I have been for two days engaged in an investigation of your character.”

“Really, Mr. Stillinghast!” began the young man, with a haughty look.

“Investigating your character, sir.  I have made inquiries of your friends and foes concerning your habits, your business associations, your antecedents—­”

“For what purpose, sir?” inquired Walter Jerrold, flushing up.

“To see if I might trust you.”

“And the result of this strange procedure?”

“Is favorable throughout.  I congratulate you, sir, on being without reproach in your business relations.  You will suit me to a nicety.  I lost two years ago the old man who sat at this desk for the last forty years.  He was the only friend I had in the wide earth.  He was my prop and support, and now that he is gone, I feel tottering and weak.  I want some one to assist me in the cares of my immense business; a partner, young, active, and possessed of just the requisites which you have.”

Walter Jerrold’s eyes lit up with an expression of wild triumph.  He could scarcely believe his own ears; he thought it was a cheating dream that the millionnaire, Stillinghast—­the bitter, inaccessible old man, should offer him something so far beyond his most sanguine hopes; advantages which he had intended to intrigue, and toil unceasingly for, but which were now thrown into his very hands.

“Do you understand me, Mr. Jerrold?”

“I hear you, sir, but really fear you are jesting at my expense.”

“I never jest, sir.  It has been so long since I jested that the word has become meaningless to me.  But, as I said, there is a condition—­”

“Allow me to hear it, Mr. Stillinghast,” said Walter Jerrold, fearing at least it might be something dreadful and impossible.