Ryder was president of the Gotham
Trust Company, an institution whose magnificent marble front was one
of the sights of Fifth Avenue. He was a man a trifle under fifty,
tall and distinguished-looking, with an iron-grey mustache, and the
manners of a diplomat. He was not only a banker, he was also a man
of culture; he had run away to sea in his youth, and he had
travelled in every country of the world. He was also a bit of an
author, in an amateur way, and if there was any book which he had
not dipped into, it was not a book of which one would be apt to hear
in Society. He could talk upon any subject, and a hostess who could
secure Stanley Ryder for one of her dinner-parties generally counted
upon a success. "He doesn't go out much, these busy days," said Mrs.
Billy. "But I told him about your friend."
Now and then the conversation at the table would become general, and
Montague noticed that it was always Ryder who led. His flashes of
wit shot back and forth across the table; and those who matched
themselves against him seldom failed to come off the worse.
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