Mr. Raikes, who was going for his daily stroll beside the river, wheeled and made for the telephone, and brought back the news that Mr. Flint would be happy to see Mr. Crewe the next afternoon at four o’clock.

This interview, about which there has been so much controversy in the newspapers, and denials and counter-denials from the press bureaus of both gentlemen,—­this now historic interview began at four o’clock precisely the next day.  At that hour Mr. Crewe was ushered into that little room in which Mr. Flint worked when at Fairview.  Like Frederick the Great and other famous captains, Mr. Flint believed in an iron bedstead regime.  The magnate was, as usual, fortified behind his oak desk; the secretary with a bend in his back was in modest evidence; and an elderly man of comfortable proportions, with a large gold watch-charm portraying the rising sun, and who gave, somehow, the polished impression of a marble, sat near the window smoking a cigar.  Mr. Crewe approached the desk with that genial and brisk manner for which he was noted and held out his hand to the railroad president.

“We are both business men, and both punctual, Mr. Flint,” he said, and sat down in the empty chair beside his host, eyeing without particular favour him of the watch-charm, whose cigar was not a very good one.  “I wanted to have a little private conversation with you which might be of considerable interest to us both.”  And Mr. Crewe laid down on the desk a somewhat formidable roll of papers.

“I trust the presence of Senator Whitredge will not deter you,” answered Mr. Flint.  “He is an old friend of mine.”

Mr. Crewe was on his feet again with surprising alacrity, and beside the senator’s chair.

“How are you, Senator?” he said, “I have never had the pleasure of meeting you, but I know you by reputation.”

The senator got to his feet.  They shook hands, and exchanged cordial greetings; and during the exchange Mr. Crewe looked out of the window, and the senator’s eyes were fixed on the telephone receiver on Mr. Flint’s desk.  As neither gentleman took hold of the other’s fingers very hard, they fell apart quickly.

“I am very happy to meet you, Mr. Crewe,” said the senator.  Mr. Crewe sat down again, and not being hampered by those shrinking qualities so fatal to success he went on immediately:—­“There is nothing which I have to say that the senator cannot hear.  I made the appointment with you, Mr. Flint, to talk over a matter which may be of considerable importance to us both.  I have made up my mind to go to the Legislature.”

Mr. Crewe naturally expected to find visible effects of astonishment and joy on the faces of his hearers at such not inconsiderable news.  Mr. Flint, however, looked serious enough, though the senator smiled as he blew his smoke out of the window.

“Have you seen Job Braden, Mr. Crewe?” he asked, with genial jocoseness.  “They tell me that Job is still alive and kicking over in your parts.”