president decisively. "What made you come here?"
"I found this address in the purse," said Randolph, producing it.
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"And that's the only reason you came here, to find an owner for that
bag?"
"Yes."
The president disengaged himself from the counter.
"I'm sorry to have given you so much trouble," said Randolph
concludingly. "Thank you and good-morning."
"Good-morning."
As Randolph turned away he remembered the advertisement for the night
watchman. He hesitated and turned back. He was a little surprised to
find that the president had not gone away, but was looking after him.
"I beg your pardon, but I see you want a night watchman. Could I do?"
said Randolph resolutely.
"No. You're a stranger here, and we want some one who knows the
city,--Dewslake," he returned to the receiving teller, "who's taken
Larkin's place?"
"No one yet," returned the teller, "but," he added parenthetically,
"Judge Boompointer, you know, was speaking to you about his son."
"Yes, I know that." To Randolph: "Go round to my private room and wait
for me. I won't be as long as your friend last night." Then he added to
a negro porter, "Show him round there."
He moved away, stopping at one or two desks to give an order to the
clerks, and once before the railing to speak to a depositor. Randolph
followed the negro into the hall, through a "board room," and into a
handsomely furnished office. He had not to wait long. In a few moments
the president appeared with an older man whose gray side whiskers, cut
with a certain precision, and whose black and white checked neckerchief,
tied in a formal bow, proclaimed the English respectability of the
period. At the president's dictation he took down Randolph's name,
nativity, length of residence, and occupation in California. This
concluded, the president, glancing at his companion, said briefly,--
"Well?"
"He had better come to-morrow morning at nine," was the answer.
"And ask for Mr. Dingwall, the deputy manager," added the president,
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