"That's where they are going to put a lot of their surplus earnings. Now, those stations must be the top of the style,--real buildings, not sheds. And I don't think they have any architect yet." "Well!" the architect remarked cynically. "The president or one of the vice-presidents will have a son, or nephew, or some one to work in. Or, perhaps, they may have a competitive trial for the plans." "Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won't," Harris answered knowingly. "The man who will decide all that is their first vice-president,--Raymond, Colonel Stevens P. Raymond,--know him?" Hart shook his head. "Well, Mrs. Phillips does. He lives out in Forest Park, where she's thinking of building a big house." "Is Mrs. Phillips thinking of building in Forest Park?" the architect asked quickly. Harris looked at him in a bored manner. "Why, I thought you were going to draw the plans!" "She asked me to come to see her," Hart admitted. "But that was all. I thought it was just a social matter." "Well, if a rich and good-looking woman asked me to call on her, I shouldn't take all year about making up my mind!" Jackson could not help thinking that it would be more embarrassing to call on the widow now than if he had not had this talk with the broker. His relations with Mrs. Phillips in Paris had been pleasant, unalloyed with business. He remembered how he had rather patronized the ambitious young woman, who had desired to meet artists, to go to their studios, and to give little dinners where every one talked French but her stupid husband. "The widow Phillips thinks a lot of your ability, Jackie, and old S.P.R. thinks a lot of the widow. Now do you see?" The architect laughed nervously. He could see plainly enough what was meant, but he did not like it altogether. "She can do what she likes with the old man. The job is as good as yours, if you work it properly. I've given you the tip straight ahead of the whole field. Not a soul knows that the C. R. and N. is going in for this kind of thing." "It would be a big chance," the architect replied. "It was good of you to think of me, Ben." "That's all right. It popped into my head when that ass Pemberton began his talk about your uncle's gift to the public. I must say, Jack, it seemed to me a dirty trick of the old man to cut you out the way he did. Are you going to fight the will, or is it so fixed that you can't?" "I don't know, yet, what I shall do about it." "To bring a fellow up as he did you, and then knock on him at the end,--it's just low down!"