The rain-beaten windows of Rushbrook's town house, however, were
cheerfully lit that December evening. Mr. Rushbrook seldom dined
alone; in fact, it was popularly alleged that very often the unfinished
business of the day was concluded over his bountiful and perfect board.
He was dressing as James entered the room.
"Mr. Leyton is in your study, sir; he will stay to dinner."
"All right."
"I think, sir," added James, with respectful suggestiveness, "he wants
to talk. At least, sir, he asked me if you would likely come downstairs
before your company arrived."
"Ah! Well, tell the others I'm dining on BUSINESS, and set dinner for
two in the blue room."
"Yes, sir."
Meanwhile, Mr. Leyton--a man of Rushbrook's age, but not so fresh and
vigorous-looking--had thrown himself in a chair beside the study fire,
after a glance around the handsome and familiar room. For the house had
belonged to a brother millionaire; it had changed hands with certain
shares of "Water Front,"--as some of Rushbrook's dealings had the true
barbaric absence of money detail,--and was elegantly and tastefully
furnished.
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