tinkling the banjos, zithers, mandolins of the so-called gin-mill;
all the dreams and the brutality of the day seemed gathered to
rejoice (and rejoice they did) in this new-found wonder of a
metropolitan life in the West.

The first prominent Chicagoan whom Cowperwood sought out was the
president of the Lake City National Bank, the largest financial
organization in the city, with deposits of over fourteen million
dollars. It was located in Dearborn Street, at Munroe, but a block
or two from his hotel.

"Find out who that man is," ordered Mr. Judah Addison, the president
of the bank, on seeing him enter the president's private waiting-room.

Mr. Addison's office was so arranged with glass windows that he
could, by craning his neck, see all who entered his reception-room
before they saw him, and he had been struck by Cowperwood's face
and force. Long familiarity with the banking world and with great
affairs generally had given a rich finish to the ease and force
which the latter naturally possessed. He looked strangely replete
for a man of thirty-six--suave, steady, incisive, with eyes as
fine as those of a Newfoundland or a Collie and as innocent and
winsome. They were wonderful eyes, soft and spring-like at times,
glowing with a rich, human understanding which on the instant could
harden and flash lightning. Deceptive eyes, unreadable, but
alluring alike to men and to women in all walks and conditions of
life.

The secretary addressed came back with Cowperwood's letter of
introduction, and immediately Cowperwood followed.