There was no form of presentation. Instead, there was a pause that only Huber seemed not to notice. Rivington drummed on the table with his long fingers. Hallett chewed his cigar. The other man smiled so enigmatically that it was impossible to say whether he intended to welcome or was amused by his friends’ discomfiture. "Bring a chair for Mr. Huber." Simpson did as he was bid. Luke deposited a carefully brushed hat on the table. Then he sank into the proffered chair opposite the leader of the trio and extended his long legs under the mahogany. His feet touched Rivington’s, and Rivington jumped. "Well?" asked the man at the head of the table. Huber did not raise his heavy lids. "I am glad I found you three together," he said slowly in a low and extremely gentle voice, "because you are the three men that control the railroad." Hallett grinned a broad grin. This young fellow talked as if there were but one railroad in which the group was interested. "What railroad?" he asked. Luke slowly drew in his legs. He regarded the figure of the Persian rug that happened to be between the points of his patent-leather boots. "The railroad," said he, "that I suppose you have been talking most about this morning." "The Manhattan & Niagara?" blurted Rivington. "We’re not directors of that road," said Hallett hurriedly. "No," agreed Rivington. "No," said Luke, quite as heartily, "you aren’t directors, but you direct it." "We don’t," snapped Rivington. The man at the head of the table raised a soothing hand. He was still smiling. "Come, come," he said, with an air of good-nature that his friends had seldom seen him assume during business hours. "We’re all gentlemen, I’m sure. Anything that Mr. Huber wants to say to us in confidence——" Huber interrupted. "I never talk in confidence," said he; "and I don’t want anybody to say anything to me that he would be ashamed to say in public." His eyes were still hidden, and he still spoke slowly and gently; but the mere import of his words brought up short even the leader of the trio before him. That one’s manner changed. He was curt. "We are busy men, Mr. Huber," he said. "There are not many people in New York that we would have allowed to take up our time this morning. What do you want?" Luke studied the figure on the rug. "I want you three," he said in a tone not to be quickened, "to tear up every mile of rails on the M. & N. and replace those pieces of scrap-iron with rails of a grade fit to bear the traffic they have to carry." Rivington’s drumming fingers closed into his palms. Hallett let out an ugly laugh. Only the man at the head of the table, again changing his manner, equaled Luke in tranquillity. "Really, Mr. Huber," he said pleasantly, "without admitting for a moment that we have the power to do what you suggest, don’t you think your request is a rather large one?" He had the air of indulgently correcting a mistaken child.