"Glad to meet you, Mr. Brendon," he said in a genial voice; then he
shook hands, took off his spectacles, and sat down again.
"This is a pleasure I had meant to give myself before I quitted the
city," declared the big man. "I've heard about you and I've taken
off my hat to you more than once during the war. You might know me,
too."
"Everybody in our business knows you, Mr. Ganns. But I've not come
hero-worshipping to waste your time. I'm proud you're pleased to see
me and it's a great privilege to meet you; but I've looked in this
morning about something that won't wait; and your name is the big
noise in a letter I received from Italy to-day."
"Is that so? I'm bound for Italy in the fall."
"The question is whether this letter may change your plans and send
you there sooner."
The elder stared, took a golden box out of his waistcoat pocket,
opened it, tapped it, and helped himself to a pinch of snuff. The
habit explained his somewhat misshapen nose. It was tobacco, not
alcohol, that lent its exaggerated lustre and hypertrophied outline
to that organ.
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