"By the happy accident of obtaining a client," said Austen.

Mr. Crewe glanced at him again. In spite of himself, respect was growing
in him. He had expected to find a certain amount of eagerness and
subserviency--though veiled; here was a man of different calibre than he
looked for in Ripton.

"The fact is," he declared, "I have a grievance against the Northeastern
Railroads, and I have made up my mind that you are the man for me."

"You may have reason to regret your choice," Austen suggested.

"I think not," replied Mr. Crewe, promptly; "I believe I know a man when
I see one, and you inspire me with confidence. This matter will have a
double interest for you, as I understand you are fond of horses."

"Horses?"

"Yes," Mr. Crewe continued, gaining a little heat at the word, "I bought
the finest-lookin' pair you ever saw in New York this spring,--all-around
action, manners, conformation, everything; I'll show 'em to you. One of
'em's all right now; this confounded railroad injured the other gettin'
him up here. I've put in a claim. They say they didn't, my man says they
did. He tells me the horse was thrown violently against the sides of the
car several times. He's internally injured. I told 'em I'd sue 'em, and
I've decided that you are the man to take the case--on conditions."

Austen's sense of humour saved him,--and Mr. Humphrey Crewe had begun to
interest him. He rose and walked to the window and looked out for a few
moments over the flower garden before he replied:--"On what conditions?"