g upon the signature "Eban."

CHAPTER IV

Accessibility was one of Mr. Horace Vanney's fads. He aspired to be a
publicist, while sharing fallible humanity's ignorance of just what the
vague and imposing term signifies; and, as a publicist, he conceived it
in character to be readily available to the public. Almost anybody could
get to see Mr. Vanney in his tasteful and dignified lower Broadway
offices, upon almost any reasonable or plausible errand. Especially was
he hospitable to the newspaper world, the agents of publicity; and, such
is the ingratitude of the fallen soul of man, every newspaper office in
the city fully comprehended his attitude, made use of him as convenient,
and professionally regarded him as a bit of a joke, albeit a useful and
amiable joke. Of this he had no inkling. Enough for him that he was
frequently, even habitually quoted, upon a wide range of windy topics,
often with his picture appended.

With far less difficulty than he had found in winning the notice of Mr.
Gordon, Banneker attained the sanctum of the capitalist.

"Well, well!" was the important man's greeting as he shook hands. "Our
young friend from the desert! How do we find New York?"

From Banneker's reply, there grew out a pleasantly purposeless
conversation, which afforded the newcomer opportunity to decide that he
did not like this Mr. Vanney, sleek, smiling, gentle, and courteous, as
well as he had the brusque old tyrant of the wreck. That green-whiskered
autocrat had been at least natural, direct, and unselfish in his grim
emergency work. This manifestation seemed wary, cautious, on its guard
to defend itself against some probable tax upon its good nature. All
this unconscious, instinctive reckoning of the other man's
characteristics gave to the young fellow an effect of poise, of
judicious balance and quiet confidence. It was one of Banneker's
elements of strength, which subsequently won for him his unique place,
that he was always too much interested in estimating the man to whom he
was talking, to consider even what the other might think of him. It was
at once a form of egoism, and the total negation of egotism. It made him
the least self-conscious of human beings. And old Horace Vanney,
pompous, vain, the most self-conscious of his genus, felt, though he
could not analyze, the charm of it.

A chance word indicated that Banneker was already "placed." At once,
though almost insensibly, the attitude of Mr. Vanney e