other for an instant and the stranger raised his hat, that his
hands and feet were smaller than usually accompany such a large frame.
The impression was that of great physical energy, self-confidence, and
determined will. The face was not bad, certainly not in detail, and
even the penetrating eyes seemed at the moment capable of a humorous
expression, but it was that of a man whom you would not like to have
your enemy. He wore a business suit of rough material and fashionable
cut, but he wore it like a man who did not give much thought to his
clothes.

"What a striking-looking man," said Philip, motioning with his hand
towards the anteroom as he greeted Mr. Mavick.

"Who, Ault?" answered Mavick, indifferently.

"Ault! What, Murad Ault?"

"Nobody else."

"Is it possible? I thought I saw a resemblance. Several times I have
wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed
absurd. Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think
that he should be the great Murad Ault."

"He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years," Mavick answered,
with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest,
"What do you know about him?"

"If this is the same person, he used to live at Rivervale. Came there,
no one knew where from, and lived with his mother, a little withered old
woman, on a little cleared patch up in the hills, in a comfortable sort
of shanty. She used to come to the village with herbs and roots to sell.
Nobody knew whether she was a gypsy or a decayed lady, she had such an
air, and the children were half afraid of her, as a sort of witch. Murad
went to school, and occasionally worked for some farmer, but nobody knew
him; he rarely spoke to any one, and he had the reputation of being a
perfect devil; his only delight seemed to be in doing some dare-devil
feat to frighten the children. We used to say that Murad Ault would
become either a pirate or--"

"Broker," suggested Mr. Mavick, with a smile.

"I didn't know much about brokers at that time," Philip hastened to say,
and then laughed himself at his escape from actual rudeness.

"What became of him?"

"Oh, he just disappeared. After I went away to school I heard that his
mother had died, and Murad had gone off--gone West it was said. Nothing
was ever heard of him."

The advent and rise of Murad Ault in New York was the sort of phenomenon
to which the metropolis, which picks up its great men as Napoleon did