"A real general," I said to myself.

"I should like to know him better." After a long talk they returned to the other room, closing the door behind them, and I waited again, still more impatiently.
It seems rather absurd now, but at that moment I felt firmly convinced that I was on the way to the permanent settlement of a struggle which had occupied the best brains of Kilburn for many weeks.
While I was waiting in that dingy ante-room, the other door slowly opened and a boy stuck his head in.
"Is David Grayson here ?" he asked.
"Here he is," said I, greatly astonished that any one in Kilburn should be inquiring for me, or should know where I was.
The boy came in, looked at me with jolly round eyes for a moment, and dug a letter out of his pocket.

I opened it at once, and glancing at the signature discovered that it was from Mr.Vedder.
"He said I'd probably find you at strike headquarters," remarked the boy.
This was the letter: marked "Confidential." My Dear Grayson: I think you must be something of a hypnotist.

After you left me I began to think of the project you mentioned, and I have talked it over with one or two of my associates.

I would gladly hold this conference, but it does not now seem wise for us to do so.