“Sit down, anyhow,” imperturbably suggested the man. The autocrat sat down. He said, “But please understand that.” “I won't keep you any longer because you are sitting. Shall we get down to business?” “Yes.” “Mr. Merriwether”--the man spoke almost dreamily--“do you know why I asked you to call to-day at eleven?” “No.” “Because when you were here yesterday it was after banking hours.” “And?” The little czar was in a hurry to finish. “You, Mr. Merriwether, are one of those fortunate mortals about whom the newspapers do not lie.” “Oh, am I? I take it you haven't seen a newspaper in twelve years.” Mr. Merriwether, after all, was an American. His sense of humor helped to make him great. “I've read every line that has ever been printed about you--I had to, in order to study you exhaustively. I find that you are acknowledged by both friends and foes to be an intelligent man.” “Oh yes!” “A very intelligent man,” continued the man. “And therefore?” said the very intelligent man. “And, therefore, I now ask you to give me one million dollars.” Mr. E. H. Merriwether never so much as batted an eyelid. He kept his eyes fixed on the stranger's eyes. He repeated, a trifle impatiently: “And?” “A certified check will do.” “Come to the point. I am a busy man,” said Mr. Merriwether. The man looked at the little financier admiringly. Then he said, “You mean you wish to know why you should give the million, or what you will get for it?” “Either! Both!” “You should give it because it is I who ask it. You will get for it what is very, very cheap at a million.” “My dear sir, we'd do business quicker if you'd play show-down.” Now that it was a matter of money, of paying, of trading, Tom's father felt a great sense of relief. Still, there was Tom's unhappiness to consider. Poor boy! “I want you to give me a million so that in return I may give you a daughter-in-law.” “You mean you will not give me a daughter-in-law if I give you a million, don't you?” “I am in the habit of meaning what I say. The sooner you learn that, the quicker we'll close the deal. I mean that for a million dollars I'll give you a daughter-in-law.” Mr. Merriwether shook his head. It was plainly to be seen on his face that every moment spent in this room was a sad waste of time. “Isn't it worth a million to you?” asked the man, as if he knew it was. Mr. Merriwether proceeded to look as though it were worth even less than a Santo Domingo mining concession. Then he said, with finality: “No.” The man rose. “Then,” he spoke indifferently, “come back when it is. I'll ask you to excuse me. I, also, am a busy man. Good day, sir.” Mr. Merriwether rose and bowed. He looked straight into the man's very shrewd eyes, smiled very slightly--and sat down again. “Do you mean,” he asked, very pleasantly, for his bluff had been called, “Miss Calderon?” The man sat down. “Oh no!” he answered, unsmilingly. “No? Then?” Mr. Merriwether was so surprised that he forgot not to show it.