Edgar Wallace

“ There are two or three groups of Hades worshipers. For some reason or other, Pluto, which is his other name, has a fascination beyond all the other gods.”
“And are there such people here in America, in the State of New York?”
“Absolutely,” said the professor with a twinkle in his eye; “some conscious and some unconscious. Do not forget that Pluto is the god of wealth,” he finished, chuckling.
“Let me ask you a plain, blunt question, professor,” said Peter. “You're well acquainted with the best people in New York; do you know any of them who are worshipers of Hades? ”

“ CHAPTER VII. AT THE RESTAURANT. IT was a busy day for Peter Correlly,—much busier, as it proved, than he had expected. When he suggested that he had not heard of Professor Cavan until the previous day he was, of course, exaggerating. What he meant was that Professor Cavan had interested him yesterday for the first time. Everybody knew the little man with the straggling, cobweb beard, the bald pate, the lank gray hair, the big steel-rimmed spectacles, and, greatest eccentricity of all in one who had turned professor, the comfortable bank balance. ”

“ He asked the question of the doorman and was told that the car was Professor Cavan's. His curiosity impelled him to a close inspection. The servant recognized him and touched his hat.
“Good evening, sir,” he said. “You're the gentleman who called at the house? The professor is dining.”
“I know,” replied Peter. “This is a beautiful car.”
“Yes,” said the man. “It is a Henault, one of the best imported cars in New York. You should get the professor to let you take a trip in her. She is a very smooth-running machine.” ”