Bruce stood for a moment on the sidewalk, utterly bewildered by what he had heard.
“Well, did yer brace de bloke?” demanded Skinny appearing suddenly in front of him.
“Yes,” answered Bruce “and he told me he had some money to pay me that was left to my father.”
“Hully gee,” exclaimed the boy. “Better look out though dat yer get all wot’s comin’ to yer. Dat Scar-faced Charlie don’t never pay bills in full.”
In his private office in the poor, shabby building, in which for reasons best known to himself he had chosen to establish his place of business, the tall saturnine black bearded and altogether mysterious character known already to some of our readers sat busy with books and letters.
In the outer office his bookkeeper stood at his tall desk pausing now and then to talk to those who came in, intent on some business errand, and once in a while referring some particular person to his master who sat in the inside room.
It was just twelve o’clock and during the morning all sorts of people had been coming and going in and out of that dingy little place of business. Some of the visitors were well to do in appearance while others looked as if poverty and misfortune had long since claimed them as their own. Some were men and others women, and there were three or four children among the clients of the place. If the visitors were noticeable for any one thing it was for the stealthy and mysterious manner in which they entered and made known their wishes to the bookkeeper who stood guard at the outer office. This functionary, by the way, seemed to be well acquainted with nearly every one that called, and he usually had a word of greeting that was sometimes pleasant sometimes sarcastic and often contemptuous. To a man with a cast in his eye who slouched cautiously in after having scanned the neighborhood from under his hat for at least three minutes before entering, the bookkeeper said jocosely:
“Well what have you got for us to-day? Any nice loose diamonds or a few watch cases?”
“Hush!” exclaimed the visitor warily as he laid his finger-against his nose, “you’re always talking foolishly. Can I have a word with the boss to-day?”
“I guess so; you’re a pretty good customer here. So you may walk right in.” The visitor tip-toed into the private room, closed the door behind him, drew his chair up beside the tall saturnine man who was still busy with his pen, and whispered something in his ear that caused him to sit bolt upright and gaze sharply and with amazement in the face of his visitor. For fully an hour the man with the cast in his eye remained in the inner office and when he finally withdrew, the other accompanied him to the door and stood for a moment talking earnestly to him in a low voice before he permitted him to depart. Then he went back to his desk, and his face as he passed through the room, was so stern and troubled that one or two visitors who were seated awaiting his pleasure viewed him carefully, then shook their heads and departed, preferring to talk to him at some time when they should find him in better humor. As for the visitors they all came with one object in view which was money, for the well dressed man who sat at the desk in the inner office made a business of lending money at exorbitant rates of interest and on all sorts securities.