Mr. Jabez came forth presently.... He had been married in the interval, according to Broadwell; the fact had touched the wide, limp mouth. A very rich girl had joined pastures with Jabez; so that this coming forward was one of the richest young men in New York, representing the fortune of his mother which the dreaming Nathan had put into works; representing the fortune he had recently wedded with or without dreaming, and also the Lot & Company millions. Mr. Jabez also stood for the modern note of the firm; he was designed to bring the old and prosperous conservatism an additional new and up-to-the-hour force of suction.... Mr. Jabez smiled. “Hello, Bellair,” he said with a careless regard,--doubtless part of the modern method, the laxity of new America which knows no caste. The thought had formed about him something to this effect: “What’s the use of me carrying it--you will not be able to forget you are talking to forty millions?” “Come in,” he added and Bellair followed. Mr. Nathan was beyond the partition. The atmosphere of the dreamer had looped over into the son’s sanctum.... Bellair began at the point of his handing the letter, addressed to Mr. Nathan, to the station-porter at the last moment from the platform of the Savannah Pullman. “But mails don’t miscarry,” said Mr. Jabez, impatiently. “That’s a fact. Perhaps mine wasn’t mailed. Of course,” he added quietly, “you didn’t require that letter. You had my note of release in the safe. They say at the Trust company that you collected the thousand dollars and interest within four days after I left.” “Suppose every employé who has a deposit of faith--should tie us up that way?” “It would be well to find out what he has done--before calling in the police.” “What do you want, Bellair?” Mr. Jabez could hold his temper, when its display was an inconvenience. “I want a paper signed by you for Lot & Company, stating that you were in error when you charged me with absconding with company funds; that my accounts were afterward found to be entirely correct.” Jabez Lot surveyed him. There was some change which he did not understand. The paper asked for, was a mere matter of dictation, a thing that might be forced from the firm. He believed, however, that Bellair wanted something else. “I think the wisest plan for us will be to turn your case over to our attorney,” he said. “Why?” Bellair asked. The full episode of the Nubian File and Mr. Prentidd passed through his mind. “You see these affairs are adjusted better out of the office----” “Why?” “As a matter of fact, Bellair,” Mr. Jabez said patiently, “Lot & Company is eager to make amends for its mistake----” There was a slow, quiet cough, the most natural and thoughtless sort of cough from the inner office. Bellair wondered if the modern method of Mr. Jabez was wearing a bit upon the dreamer, or if he were really lost in some inscrutable departure of mind.