“I’m that man.” “I have a little matter of stocks to talk over with you” (“matter” almost sounded like “mather”), “and I thought you’d better come here rather than that I should come down to your office. We can be more private-like, and, besides, I’m not as young as I used to be.” He allowed a semi-twinkle to rest in his eye as he looked his visitor over. Cowperwood smiled. “Well, I hope I can be of service to you,” he said, genially. “I happen to be interested just at present in pickin’ up certain street-railway stocks on ’change. I’ll tell you about them later. Won’t you have somethin’ to drink? It’s a cold morning.” “No, thanks; I never drink.” “Never? That’s a hard word when it comes to whisky. Well, no matter. It’s a good rule. My boys don’t touch anything, and I’m glad of it. As I say, I’m interested in pickin’ up a few stocks on ’change; but, to tell you the truth, I’m more interested in findin’ some clever young felly like yourself through whom I can work. One thing leads to another, you know, in this world.” And he looked at his visitor non-committally, and yet with a genial show of interest. “Quite so,” replied Cowperwood, with a friendly gleam in return. “Well,” Butler meditated, half to himself, half to Cowperwood, “there are a number of things that a bright young man could do for me in the street if he were so minded. I have two bright boys of my own, but I don’t want them to become stock-gamblers, and I don’t know that they would or could if I wanted them to. But this isn’t a matter of stock-gambling. I’m pretty busy as it is, and, as I said awhile ago, I’m getting along. I’m not as light on my toes as I once was. But if I had the right sort of a young man—I’ve been looking into your record, by the way, never fear—he might handle a number of little things—investments and loans—which might bring us each a little somethin’. Sometimes the young men around town ask advice of me in one way and another—they have a little somethin’ to invest, and so—” He paused and looked tantalizingly out of the window, knowing full well Cowperwood was greatly interested, and that this talk of political influence and connections could only whet his appetite. Butler wanted him to see clearly that fidelity was the point in this case—fidelity, tact, subtlety, and concealment. “Well, if you have been looking into my record,” observed Cowperwood, with his own elusive smile, leaving the thought suspended.