And for the first time he understood the mistake of making an enemy out of what he had known only as a friendly fool.
But it was a detail, after all--merely a slight error in assuming too early an arrogance he could have afforded to wait for.

He had waited a long, long while for some things.
As for Fane, he had him locked up with his short account.

No doubt he'd hear from the Orchils through the Fanes.

However, to clinch the matter, he thought he might as well stop in to see Ruthven.

A plain word or two to Ruthven indicating his own wishes--perhaps outlining his policy concerning the future house of Neergard--might as well be delivered now as later.
So that afternoon he took a hansom at Broad and Wall streets and rolled smoothly uptown, not seriously concerned, but willing to have a brief understanding with Ruthven on one or two subjects.
As his cab drove up to the intricately ornamental little house of gray stone, a big touring limousine wheeled out from the curb, and he caught sight of Sanxon Orchil and Phoenix Mottly inside, evidently just leaving Ruthven.
His smiling and very cordial bow was returned coolly by Orchil, and apparently not observed at all by Mottly.