All American cities, these days, are much the same. Character,
atmosphere, distinctiveness, have been squeezed out in the general
mold. For all Calvin Gray could see, as he made his first
acquaintance with Dallas, he might have been treading the streets
of Los Angeles, of Indianapolis, of Portland, Maine, or of
Portland, Oregon. A California brightness and a Florida warmth to the air,
a New England alertness to the pedestrians, a Manhattan majesty to
some of the newer office buildings, these were the most
outstanding of his first impressions.

Into the largest and the newest of these buildings Gray went, a
white tile and stone skyscraper, the entire lower floor of which
was devoted to an impressive banking room. He sent his card in to
the president, and spent perhaps ten minutes with that gentleman.
He had called merely to get acquainted, so he explained; he wished
to meet only the heads of the strongest financial institutions; he
had no favors to ask--as yet, and he might have no business
whatever with them. On the other hand--well, he was a slow and
careful investigator, but when he moved, it was with promptitude
and vigor, and in such an event he wished them to know who he was.
Meanwhile, he desired no publicity, and he hoped his presence in
Dallas would not become generally known--it might seriously
interfere with his plans.

Before he left the bank Gray had met the other officers, and from
their manner he saw that he had created a decided impression upon
them. The bank president himself walked with him to the marble
railing, then said: