"At the Grand Pacific."

"How long will you be here?"

"Not more than a day or two."

"Let me see," and Mr. Addison drew out his watch. "I suppose you
wouldn't mind meeting a few of our leading men--and we have a
little luncheon-room over at the Union League Club where we drop
in now and then. If you'd care to do so, I'd like to have you
come along with me at one. We're sure to find a few of them--some
of our lawyers, business men, and judges."

"That will be fine," said the Philadelphian, simply. "You're more
than generous. There are one or two other people I want to meet
in between, and"--he arose and looked at his own watch--"I'll find
the Union Club. Where is the office of Arneel & Co.?"

At the mention of the great beef-packer, who was one of the bank's
heaviest depositors, Addison stirred slightly with approval. This
young man, at least eight years his junior, looked to him like a
future grand seigneur of finance.

At the Union Club, at this noontime luncheon, after talking with
the portly, conservative, aggressive Arneel and the shrewd director
of the stock-exchange, Cowperwood met a varied company of men
ranging in age from thirty-five to sixty-five gathered about the
board in a private dining-room of heavily carved black walnut,
with pictures of elder citizens of Chicago on the walls and an
attempt at artistry in stained glass in the windows. There were