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The ambition of his life seemed on the point of being attained. "Hello, Roberts," was Ryder's cheerful greeting. "What's brought you from Washington at a critical time like this? The Rossmore impeachment needs every friend we have." "Just as if you didn't know," smiled the senator uneasily, "that I am here by appointment to meet you and your son!" "To meet me and my son?" echoed Ryder astonished.
The financier half sprang from his seat. "Oh, yes. Show her up at once. Good-bye, sergeant, good-bye. Find that Rossmore woman and the $1,000 is yours." The detective went out and a few moments later Mr. Bagley reappeared ushering in Shirley. The mouse was in the den of the lion. Mr. Ryder remained at his desk and did not even look up when his visitor entered.
"Who are they?" asked Lucy. "General Prentice and his wife. Do you know of them?" "I have heard Mr. Ryder speak of Prentice the banker. Is that the one you mean?" "Yes," said Montague, "the president of the Trust Company of the Republic. He was an old comrade of my father's, and they were the first people I met here in New York. I have got to know them very well since.
He said that Clovelly the novelist had given a little dinner at his chambers in Piccadilly, and that the guests were all our fellow-passengers by the 'Fulvia'; among them Colonel Ryder, the bookmaker, Blackburn the Queenslander, and himself. This is extracted from the letter: ... Clovelly was in rare form.
"Father," exclaimed Jefferson starting forward, "you do me an injustice." "An injustice?" echoed Mr. Ryder turning round. "Ye gods! I've given you the biggest name in the commercial world; the most colossal fortune ever accumulated by one man is waiting for you, and you say I've done you an injustice!" "Yes we are rich," said Jefferson bitterly. "But at what a cost!
I have always appealed to your better nature by telling you the truth, and in your heart you know that I am speaking the truth now." "Go!" he commanded. "Yes, let us go, Shirley!" said Jefferson. "No, Jeff, I came here alone and I'm going alone!" "You are not. I shall go with you. I intend to make you my wife!" Ryder laughed scornfully. "No," cried Shirley.
He spoke in a rapid, explosive manner, like a man who has only a few moments to spare before he must rush to catch a train. John Ryder had been catching trains all his life, and he had seldom missed one. "Governor Rice called. He wants an appointment," said Mr. Bagley, holding out a card. "I can't see him. Tell him so," came the answer, quick as a flash. "Who else?" he demanded.
His words dispelled part of the charm. The hands of big Boone lowered; the others assumed more natural positions, but each, it seemed to Pierre, took particular and almost ostentatious care that their right hands should be always far from the holsters of their guns. The stranger went on: "Martin Ryder is finished, as I suppose you know. He left a spawn of two mongrels behind him.
It was probable that at the same time he would make an effort to secure the letters. Meantime she must be patient. Too much hurry might spoil everything. So the days passed, Shirley devoting almost all her time to the history she had undertaken. She saw nothing of Ryder, Sr., but a good deal of his wife, to whom she soon became much attached.
He had now migrated from Twickenham and taken rooms in Ryder Street. Had he ever shared with Braxton the bread of adversity but no, I think he would in any case have been pleasant. And conversely I cannot imagine that Braxton would in any case have been so. No one seeing the two rivals together, no one meeting them at Mr. Hookworth's famous luncheon parties in the Authors' Club, or at Mrs.
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