Just as Darrell was completing the arrangement of his effects, Mr. Underwood and his partner sauntered into the room from their apartments. Within a few feet of the door Mr. Underwood came to a stop, his hands deep in his trousers pockets, his square chin thrust aggressively forward, while, with a face unreadable as granite, his keen eyes scanned every detail in the room. Mr. Walcott, on the contrary, made the entire circuit of the room, his hands carelessly clasped behind him, his head thrown well back, his every step characterized by a graceful, undulatory motion, like the movements of the feline tribe. "H'm!" was Mr. Underwood's sole comment when he had finished his survey of the room. Mr. Walcott turned towards his partner with a smile. "Mr. Darrell is evidently a prime favorite with the ladies," he remarked, pleasantly. "Well, they don't want to try any of their prime favorite business on me," retorted Mr. Underwood, as he slowly turned and left the room. Both young men laughed, and Walcott, with an easy, nonchalant air, seated himself near Darrell. "I find the old gentleman has a keen sense of humor," he said, still smiling; "but some of his jokes are inclined to be a little ponderous at times." "His humor generally lies along the lines of sarcasm," Darrell replied. "Ah, something of a cynic, is he?" "No," said Darrell; "he has too kind a heart to be cynical, but he is very fond of concealing it by sarcasm and brusqueness." "He is quite original and unique in his way. I find him really a much more agreeable man than I anticipated. You have very pleasant quarters here, Mr. Darrell. I should judge you intended this as a sort of study as well as an office." "I do intend it so. Probably for a while I shall do more studying than anything else, as it may be some time before I get any assaying." "I think we can probably throw quite a bit of work your way, as we frequently have inquiries from some of our clients wanting something in that line." "Walcott," said Mr. Underwood, re-entering suddenly, "Chapman is out there; go and meet him. You can conduct negotiations with him on the terms we agreed upon, but I don't care to figure in the deal. If he asks for me, tell him I'm out." "I see; as the ladies say, you're 'not at home,'" said Walcott, smiling, as he sprang quickly to his feet. "Well, Mr. Darrell," he continued, "I consider myself fortunate in having you for so near a neighbor, and I trust that we shall prove good friends and our relations mutually agreeable." Darrell's dark, penetrating eyes looked squarely into the half-closed, smiling ones, which met his glance for an instant, then wavered and dropped. "I know of no reason why we should not be friends," he replied, quietly, knowing he could say that much with all candor, yet feeling that friendship between them was an utter impossibility, and that of this Walcott was as conscious as was he himself.