Now, what about that?” he queried, genially.
The letter was from Greaves and Henshaw, and read:
DEAR MR. COWPERWOOD:
We note in today’s paper your arrival in London.
If convenient and of interest to you, we would like to arrange an appointment, preferably for Monday or Tuesday of next week. Our purpose is, of course, to discuss the matter laid before you in New York about March 15th last.
Felicitating you upon your safe arrival, and wishing you a very pleasant stay, we are
Cordially yours, Greaves and Henshaw per Montague Greaves
Sippens snapped his fingers triumphantly.
“There!
What did I tell you?” he fairly cackled.
“Bringing it to you on your own terms.
And the finest route in all London.
With that in your bag, Chief, you can afford to sit back and wait, particularly if you start picking up some of these other options that are floating around, for they’ll hear of it and have to come to you.
This fellow Johnson!
He’s got a nerve, asking you to do nothing until after you see him,” he added, a little sourly, for already he had heard that Johnson was an assured and dictatorial person, and he was prepared not to like him.
“Of course, he has some good connections,” he continued, “he and this fellow Stane.
But without your money and ability and experience, what can they do?
They couldn’t even swing this Charing Cross line, let alone these others!
And they won’t, without you!”
“You’re probably right, De Sota,” said Cowperwood, smiling genially on his loyal associate.
“I’ll see Greaves and Henshaw, probably on Tuesday, and you may be sure that I won’t let anything slip through my fingers.
How about tomorrow afternoon for that ride over the Charing Cross?
I suppose I ought to see that and these loop lines at one and the same time.”
“Great, Chief!
How about one o’clock?
I can show you everything and have you back here by five.”
“Good!
Only, just a moment.
Do you remember Haddonfield, Lord Haddonfield, who came out to Chicago a few years ago and created such a stir out there?
The Palmers, the Fields, the Lesters, were all running after him, remember?
I entertained him out at my place, too.
Sporty, jaunty type.”
“Sure, sure!
I remember,” returned Sippens. “Wanted to go into the packing business, I believe.”
“And into my business, too.
I guess I never told you that.”
“No, you never did,” said Sippens, interestedly.
“Well, anyhow, I had a telegram from him this morning. Wants me to come to his country place—Shropshire, I believe—over this coming week end.”
He picked up a telegram from his desk.
“Beriton Manor, Shropshire.”
“That’s interesting.
He’s one of the people connected with the City and South London.
Stockholder, or director, or something.
I’ll know all about him tomorrow.
Maybe he’s in on this underground development and wants to see you about that.
If so, and he’s friendly, he’s certainly a good man for you.
Stranger in a strange land, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said Cowperwood.
“It may not be a bad idea.
I think I’ll go.