The private secretary stood beside the desk, hesitated, and presently walked out. Shortly afterward, the great and ruthless E. H. Merriwether, full of perplexity and regret--and some remorse over his neglect of his only son for so many years--went uptown. He desired to know what to expect, in order to be able to think intelligently, and, therefore, to fight efficiently. How could he fight--not knowing what or whom to fight? He told the chauffeur to wait, and then rang the bell of 777. One of the four footmen whose faces had impressed Tom as being distinctly too intelligent for menials, opened the door. “I wish to see Madam Calderon.” “I beg pardon, sir. Have you an appointment?” “No. Say it is Mr. Merriwether.” “Mr. who, sir?” Mr. Merriwether took out a card. The footman received it on a very elaborate silver-gilt card-tray and, pointing to a particularly uncomfortable, high-backed Circassian-walnut chair in the foyer, left the great little multimillionaire under the watchful eye of footman Number Two. This annoyed Mr. Merriwether. Nobody is altogether invulnerable. The footman returned, with the card and the tray. “Madam is not at home, sir; but her brother would be glad to see you, if you wish, sir. He is madam's man of affairs.” “Very well.” “If you please, sir, this way.” And the footman led the way to the door of the library, where Tom had been received so often. “Mr. Edward H. Merriwether!” The emphasis on the first name made the little czar of the Southwestern roads think it was done in order to differentiate him from Mr. Thomas Merriwether. Even great men are not above thinking themselves clever. He entered the room and took in its character at one glance, just as Tom had done. He became cool, watchful, alert, and observing, as he always did when he went into a fight. He looked at the man who was said to be the brother of the woman who had leased the house--the woman who had a daughter she wished to marry to a blond with money and position. The man had a square chin and, even in repose, suggested power and self-control. Mr. Merriwether met the remarkably steady, unblinking gaze of two extremely sharp eyes, and recognized without any particular motion that he confronted a man of strength and resource, who, moreover, had the double strategical advantage of being in his own house and of not having sought this interview. “Be seated, sir,” said the man, in the calm voice of one who is accustomed to obedience, even in trifles. Mr. E. H. Merriwether sat down. He noticed little things, as well as big. He noted, for instance, that he had begun by doing exactly what this man told him to do. The man intelligently waited for Mr. E. H. Merriwether to speak. Mr. E. H. Merriwether did so. He said: “I called to see Madam Calderon.” “About?” The man spoke coldly. Mr. E. H. Merriwether raised his eyebrows. He did it in order not to frown. There is no wisdom in needless antagonisms. His only son was concerned.