The reporter gazed on the financier meditatively. Presently, instead of answering the question, he asked:
"Have you had no suspicion of any romance?"
"Well"--and it was plain that E. H. Merriwether was telling the truth, having made up his mind to that policy as being the wisest--"well, I have of late suspected that such a thing might be possible. It is, I will confess to you, a terrible predicament, because a man naturally cherishes certain hopes for his only son." On Mr. Merriwether's face there was a quite human look of suffering.
"Of course," said the reporter, apologetically, as though offering an excuse for a friend's misdeed--"of course a man in love is not always wise."
"No. And though I have no intention or desire to bribe you, and though I would not presume to interfere with you in your professional activities or influence you by pecuniary considerations, you will pardon me for suggesting--"
The reporter did not let him go on. He rose and said, with real dignity:
"Mr. Merriwether, suppose we drop the matter right here?"
"I will not print any story yet--on one condition."
"Give me your promise that you will give me an interview the next time I come to see you. It may be in a day or two or a week. I don't promise not to print the story, you understand, but it will give you time to--well, to see your son."
E. H. Merriwether held out his hand and said: "I will see you any time you come. But let me say, as an older man, that if you should suffer any loss by not printing--"
"Oh no--I shall not suffer. I propose to print my story. I am simply deferring publication; but I thank you for the offer you were going to make. It shows more consideration and, therefore, far greater common sense than most men in your position habitually display before a reporter. I'll do even more--I'll give you a friendly tip." He stopped talking and looked doubtfully at E. H. Merriwether.
"Thank you," said Mr. Merriwether, with a remarkable mixture of gratitude, dignity, and anxiety. "I am listening."
"Find out why he goes to 777 Fifth Avenue. There are some things a really intelligent father, poor or rich, should--" He caught himself.
"Please finish, my boy!" cried the great little man, almost entreatingly.