When Horace had finished this he felt justified in helping himself to some brandy and soda. It was the most interesting and important computation upon which he had ever engaged, and its noble proportions grew upon him momentarily as he pondered them and sipped his drink. More than two and a quarter millions lay before his eyes, within reach of his hand. Was it not almost as if they were his? And of course this did not represent everything. There was sundry village property that he knew about; there would be bank accounts, minor investments and so on, quite probably raising the total to nearly or quite two millions and a half. Oh, to think of it! And he had only put things down at par values. The telegraph stock was quoted at a trifle less, just now, but if there had been any Minster Iron-works stock for sale, it would command a heavy premium. The scattering investments, too, which yielded an average of five per cent., must be worth a good deal more than their face. What he didn’t like about the thing was that big block of Thessaly Manufacturing Company stock. That seemed to be earning nothing at all; he could find no record of dividends, or, in truth, any information whatever about it. Where had he heard about that company before? The name was curiously familiar to his mind; he had been told something about it--by whom? All at once it flashed upon him. That was the company of which the mysterious Judge Wendover was president. Tenney had talked about it; Tenney had told him that he would hear a good deal about it before long. As these reflections rose in the young man’s mind, the figures which he had written down on the paper seemed to diminish in size and significance. It was a queer notion, but he couldn’t help feeling that the millions had somehow moved themselves farther back, out of his reach. The thought of these two men--of the gray-eyed, thin-lipped, abnormally smart Tenney, and of that shadowy New York financier who shared his secrets--made him nervous. They had a purpose, and he was more or less linked to it and to them, and Heaven only knew where he might be dragged in the dark. He finished his glass and resolved that he would no longer remain in the dark. To-morrow he would see Tenney and Mrs. Minster and Reuben, and have a clear understanding all around. There came sharp and loud upon his door a peremptory knocking, and Horace with a swift movement slipped the paper on which he had made the figures into the box, and noiselessly closed the cover. Then he opened the door, and discovered before him a man whom for the instant, in the dim light of the hall, he did not recognize. The man advanced a step, and then Horace saw that it was--strangely changed and unlike himself--his father! “I didn’t hear you come in,” said the young man, vaguely confused by the altered appearance of the General, and trying in some agitation of mind to define the change and to guess what it portended.