either, as Mirabelle had suspected.

He had roomed with Henry at college; he had been his inseparable
companion, out of office hours, ever since; he knew him too well to
proffer any trite condolence. But his sympathy was firm and warm in
his fingers when he shook hands and Henry got the message.

"Thought probably you'd rather not have me at the train," said
Standish, "so I didn't come. Right or wrong?"

"Right, Bob.... Allow smoking in your sanctum?"

"Don't allow anybody _not_ to smoke. What are you doing--borrowing or
offering?"

Henry glanced at Standish's brand. "Neither one. Every man for
himself--and you've got vile taste. Well, I hear you're the big boss
around here. Please, mister, gimme a job?"

"Nothing I'd like better," said Standish. "I've got just the thing for
you. Sit over on the window-sill and be a lily. Flowers brighten up an
office so."

"You basely misjudge me. Didn't you know I'm going to work?"

Standish's eyes were round and guileless. "See any sea-serpents on
your way over? I've heard there _are_ such things."

"Fact, though, I am. And you know it, too. I'm hoping it's here."

His friend shook his head. "Not here, Henry."

"No?"

"No, and I'm sorry. I'd make you clean inkwells and say 'sir,' and
you'd get to be almost as democratic as I am.... Haven't you seen
Archer?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Oh, just squeamish, I suppose. You sort of hate to think of the--cash
end of it."

"That's right, too. But as long as you're in the building, you'd
better drop in there. From all the talk there is, you've picked up a
mystery."

"Mystery? In what way?"

"Not for me to say. Go find out. And say--you and Anna come and dine
with me tonight, will you? I just want to have you all to myself.
Mind?"

"Not noticeably."

"Good. Seven o'clock. Now get out of here and see Archer. Come back
afterwards, if you want to; but do that first."

As if from pressure of business, he projected Henry into the corridor;
and then, meditatively, he returned to his desk. Young Mr. Standish
had watched his employer very closely, during those last few days, and
in witnessing Mr. Starkweather's will, he had sensed, intuitively,
that it contained a stick of dynamite for Henry.

* * * * *

Mr. Archer, who had known Henry since the Fauntleroy days, greeted him
with the proper mixture of repression and cordiality. "But I'm
afraid," owned Mr. Archer, "I'm afraid you'