It was easy to find out that the Detroit lawyer had left the Hoffman House, but "with no address." And he vainly sought counsel of Senator Dunham when he was informed by the company's lawyers that Mr.Witherspoon declined to transact any business with him save in writing, and through the company's officials.
"Go out and bring your wife to terms, you young fool," roughly said the angered statesman.

"You've no rights, now, save through her." To the consternation of the secret bridegroom, the Detroit papers announced that "nothing whatever would be as yet announced as to the disposition of the late Mr.Worthington's vast estate," until the return of the executors from New York City.
With all his nerves temporarily shattered, Arthur Ferris saw all his cardboard fortifications suddenly strewn around him by adverse gales.

His barren title of vice-president of the company now availed him nothing.

The president, manager, and directors all practically shunned him, waiting for the word as to who would manage the controlling interest of the dead Croesus.
There was a formal evening meeting of all concerned when the detective captain finally reported that the whole department were unable to find a clue of Randall Clayton's whereabouts.

Arthur Ferris gazed askance at Mr.John Witherspoon's strong face when the company's leading New York lawyer took up the word, as the French neatly put it.