So they left, and in a few minutes more our hero was in his automobile
and speeding rapidly up town. He entered his club-house, and went to a
private room, into which shortly after there came hobbling an aged,
red-nosed, and gouty old aristocrat, swearing furiously and demanding,
"What in the devil did you want me here for, anyhow?"
It was Mr. Chauncey van Rensselaer.
"Well," said the son, after dutifully helping him to a chair, "what do
you think of it?"
"That's not answering my question," growled the other. "But Lord,
Robbie, I've had a day of it! Do you know I hold five thousand of T. &
S.? And I've just been crazy all day, waiting--waiting--"