Presently there was a jar, and the taxicab came to a halt in front of a
large office building. The young man gave one look, and, before the
driver could get down, had the door open and was on the pavement.
"Here you are," he said and thrust a dollar bill into the fellow's
hand. Then he crossed the broad pavement and was lost to sight in the
corridor beyond.

"In a hurry and no mistake, and looks a heap worried, too," was the
chauffeur's comment. "Well, I'm a quarter ahead on that fare."

For a moment the young man studied the directory on the corridor wall.
Then he entered an elevator and alighted at the eighth floor. He,
walked down a side hall until he came to a door upon the glass of which
was inscribed the name:

_Adam Adams_

"This must be the place," he murmured, and opening the door he entered
the office, to find himself in a plain but neatly furnished apartment,
containing several chairs, and a flat-top desk, at which a young lady
was writing.

"Is Mr. Adams in?" he asked, as the young lady arose to meet him.

"What name, please?" was the counter question, and the young lady gave
the visitor a keen glance.

"Raymond Case." The young man brought forth his card. "Tell Mr. Adams
I am the son of the late Wilbur Case, and wish to see him on important
business."