ng his arm on Jack's shoulder,
to accentuate more clearly his friendship for the boy.

"All the better, Mr. John Breen--doubly glad to see you, now that I know
your name. I'll try not to forget it next time. Breen! Breen! Peter,
where have I heard that name before? Breen--where the devil have I--Oh,
yes--I've got it now. Quite a common name, isn't it?"

Jack assured him with a laugh that it was; there were more than a
hundred in the city directory. He wasn't offended at Morris forgetting
his name, and wanted him to see it.

"Glad to know it; wouldn't like to think you were mixed up in the
swindle. You ought to thank your stars, my dear fellow, that you got
into architecture instead of into Wall--"

"But I am in--"

"Yes, I know--you're with Hunt--" (another instance of a defective
memory) "and you couldn't be with a better man--the best in the
profession, really. I'm talking of some scoundrels of your name--Breen
& Co., the firm is--who, I hear, have cheated one of my clients--young
Gilbert--fine fellow--just married--persuaded him to buy some gold
stock--Mukton Lode, I think they called it--and robbed him of all he
has. He must stop on his house I hear. And now, my dear Miss--" here he
turned to the young girl--"I really forget--"

"Ruth," she answered with a smile. She had taken Morris's measure and
had already begun to like him as much as Jack did.

"Yes--Miss Ruth--Now, please, my dear girl, keep on being young and very
beautiful and very wholesome, for you are every one of these things, and
I know you'll forgive me for saying so when I tell you that I have two
strapping young fellows for sons who are almost old enough to make love
to you. Come, Peter, show me that copy of Tacitus you wrote me about.
Is it in good condition?" They were out of Jack's hearing now, Morris
adding, "Fine type of Southern beauty, Peter. Big design, with broad
lines everywhere. Good, too--good as gold. Something about her forehead
that reminds me of the Italian school. Looks as if Bellini might have
loved her. Hello, Major! What are you doing here all by yourself?"

Jack stood transfixed!

Horror, anger, humiliation over the exposure (it was unheard, if he had
but known it, by anyone in the room except Peter and himself) rushed
over him in hot concurrent waves. It was his uncle, then, who had
robbed young Gilbert! The Mukton Lode! He had handled dozens of the
certificates, just as he had handled dozens of others, hardly glancing