The waxed-mustached man, preceded by Otto, the moon-faced clerk, entered the private office of Mr. George B. Richards, who rose and smiled pleasantly even as his keen eyes quickly inventoried Mr. Robison. “Mr. Richards?” twanged the stranger. That Yankee voice issuing from between those unmistakably French mustaches made Richards start; and yet the vague atmosphere of disquietude and suspicion that the ten letters of introduction had created seemed to be dispelled by the man's Yankee twang. It was so genuinely down-east that it humanized Mr. Robison and made his eccentricity less eccentric. Also, the eyes gleamed not with the fire of insanity, but with a great earnestness. “Yes. And this is Mr. Robison?” “Yes, sir!” Mr. Robison bowed very low, like a man who has lived abroad many years. “Won't you be seated, sir?” “Thank you, sir.” There was another bow of gratitude, and Mr. Robison sat down by Richards's flat-topped desk. “What can we do for you, Mr. Robison?” asked Richards, amiably polite. His course of action would be determined by the stranger's own words. “You can help me if you will.” Mr. Robison spoke very earnestly, after the manner of strong, self-reliant men when they ask for favors. “We shall be glad to if you will tell me how.” “By being patient. That's how.” Richards laughed uncertainly. Mr. Robison held up a hand as if to check unseemly merriment and said, very seriously: “I have lived alone too long to be politic or diplomatic or evasive. I wish to ask you a question.” “Ask ahead,” said Richards, with an encouraging recklessness. “Tell me, Mr. Richards--what is the most difficult thing in the world?” Mr. Robison was looking intently at the broker's face, as if he particularly desired to detect any change in expression. This intentness disconcerted Richards, who had at first intended to answer jocularly. He now said, distinctly apologetic: “There are so many very difficult things!” “Yes, there are--a great many indeed. But of all things, which is by far the most difficult?” His eyes held Richards's. “I shall have to think a little before I can answer that question.” “Take all the time you wish!” and Mr. Robison leaned back in his chair, his attitude somehow suggesting a Gibraltar-like ability to withstand a three years' siege. It made Richards do much thinking very quickly: Here was a man who was not crazy; who had lying on the desk a hundred thousand dollars in cash to which he had not even casually referred; who probably intended to do business that would prove a source of profit to the firm of Richards & Tuttle. He might be a crank or a crook, but against either contingency the firm could and would protect itself. It was just as well to humor this man until he proved himself unworthy of humoring. The problem of the moment, therefore, became how to raise the siege politely.