"Is Mrs. Brewster still with you?" asked Kent, paying no attention
to her protests as he accompanied her down the corridor. "I
understood she planned to return to the West last week."

"She did, but father persuaded her to prolong her visit," Barbara
was guilty of a grimace, then hailing the descending elevator she
bolted into it and waved her good-by to Kent as the cage shot
downward.

When Kent reentered his office he found Sylvester hanging up the
telephone receiver.

"Mr. Clymer has telephoned to ask if you will come to the Metropolis
Trust Company at once," he said, and before Kent could frame a
reply he had darted into the coat closet and brought out his hat and
cane, and handed them to him.

"Don't wait for me, but go out for your luncheon," directed Kent,
observing the hour. "I have my key and can get in when I return if
you should not be here," and not waiting to hear Sylvester's thanks,
he hurried away.

The clock over the bank had just struck noon when Kent reached the
fine office building which housed the Metropolis Trust Company, and
as he entered the bank, a messenger stopped him.

"Mr. Clymer is waiting for you in his private office, sir," he said,
and led the way past the long rows of mahogany counters and plate
glass windows to the back of the bank, finally stopping before a door
bearing the name, in modest lettering- BENJAMIN AUGUSTUS CLYMER.