CHAPTER VIA SMOOTH GAME
On Wednesday afternoon a prosperous-looking gentleman, of apparently about fifty years of age, entered the private offices of Cruse & Cupell, on Twenty-Third Street.
“Mr. Cruse?” he asked, halting at a desk.
“Mr. Cruse is out,” answered a man at the desk. “I’m Mr. Cupell.”
“My card.”
The caller handed over a bit of pasteboard bearing the name, “Mr. Jefferson Jones.”
“I’m from Albany,” went on Mr. Jones, “and I have run down to be present at the assay of the Royal Ophir ore.”
“Ah,” murmured Mr. Cupell. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Jones? There’s a paper at your elbow. I expect Mr. Bates and the other gentlemen at any moment.”
Jefferson Jones took the chair and the paper.
In a few minutes the expert entered with three other gentlemen, the expert carrying a small
