Hotel

He had been closest to capitulation when the arrival of Peter McDermott forestalled him. McDermott reported the decision of the Congress of American Dentistry to continue its convention, a fact which did not surprise Warren Trent since he had predicted it the day before. But now the entire affair seemed remote and unimportant. He was glad when McDermott left.

Afterward, for a while, he fell into a reverie, remembering past triumphs and the satisfactions they had brought. That had been the time - not so long ago, really - when his house was sought by the great and near-great-presidents, crowned heads, nobility, resplendent women and distinguished men, the nabobs of power and wealth, famous and infamous - all with one distinction: they commanded attention and received it. And where these elite led, others followed, until the St. Gregory was both a mecca and a machine for making gold.

When memories were all one had - or seemed likely to have - it was wise to savor them. Warren Trent hoped that for the hour or so which remained of his proprietorship he would be undisturbed.

The hope proved vain.

Christine Francis came in quietly, as usual sensing his mood. "Mr. Emile Dumaire would like to speak with you. I wouldn't have disturbed you, but he insisted it's urgent."

Trent grunted. The vultures were gathering, he thought. Though on second thoughts, perhaps the simile was hardly fair. A good deal of money from the Industrial Merchants Bank, of which Emile Dumaire was president, was tied up in the St. Gregory Hotel. It was also Industrial Merchants which, months earlier, had refused an extension of credit as well as a larger loan for refinancing. Well, Dumaire and his fellow directors had nothing to worry about now. With the impending deal their money would be forthcoming. Warren Trent supposed he should give that reassurance.

He reached for the telephone.

"No," Christine said. "Mr. Dumaire is here, waiting outside."

Warren Trent stopped, surprised. It was highly unusual for Emile Dumaire to leave the fastness of his bank to make a personal call on anyone.

A moment later Christine ushered the visitor in, closing the door as she left.

Emile Dumaire, short, portly and with a fringe of curly white hair, had an unbroken line of Creole ancestry. Yet he looked - perversely - as if he had stepped from the pages of Pickwick Papers. His manner had a pompous fussiness to match.

"I apologize, Warren, for the abrupt intrusion without an appointment.

However, the nature of my business left little time for niceties."

They shook hands perfunctorily. The hotel proprietor waved his visitor to a chair.

"What business?"

"If you don't object, I'd prefer to take things in order. First, permit me to say how sorry I was that it was not feasible to accede to your loan request. Unfortunately, the sum and terms were far beyond our resources or established policy."

Warren Trent nodded noncommittally. He had little liking for the banker, though he had never made the mistake of underrating him. Beneath the bumbling affectations - which lulled and deceived many - was a capable, shrewd mind.

"However, I am here today with a purpose which I hope may offset some of the unfortunate aspects of that earlier occasion."

"That," Warren Trent asserted, "is extremely unlikely."

"We'll see." From a slim briefcase the banker extracted several sheets of ruled paper covered with penciled notes "It is my understanding that you have received an offer for this hotel from the O'Keefe Corporation."

"You don't need the FBI to tell you that."

The banker smiled. "You wouldn't care to inform me of the terms?"

"Why should I?!"

"Because," Emile Durnaire said carefully, "I am here to make a counter-offer."

"If that's the case, I'd have even less reason to speak out. What I will tell you is that I've agreed to give the O'Keefe people an answer by noon today."

"Quite so. My information was to that effect, which is the reason for my abrupt appearance here. Incidentally, I apologize for not being earlier, but my information and instructions have taken some time to assemble."

The news of an eleventh-hour offer - at least, from the present source - did not excite Warren Trent. He supposed that a local group of investors, for whom Dumaire was spokesman, had combined in an attempt to buy in cheaply now and sell out later with a capital gain. Whatever the suggested terms, they could hardly match the offer of O'Keefe. Nor was Warren Trent's own position likely to be improved.

The banker consulted his penciled notes. "It is my understanding that the terms offered by O'Keefe Corporation are a purchase price of four millions. Of this, two millions would be applied to renewal of the present mortgage, the balance to be a million cash and a million dollars in a new issue of O'Keefe stock. There's an additional rumor that you personally would be given some kind of life tenancy of your quarters in the hotel."