Mr. Barrows made no reply but dusted off his felt hat. He was but the shadow of a man, an old man at that, as was attested by his long gray beard, his faded blue eyes, and the thin white hair about his fine domelike forehead.
"I forget what your trouble was about," said Mr. Tutt gently. "Won't you have a stogy?"
Mr. Barrows shook his head.
"I ain't used to it," he answered. "Makes me cough." He gazed about him vaguely.
"Something about bonds, wasn't it?" asked Mr. Tutt.
"Yes," replied Mr. Barrows; "Great Lakes and Canadian Southern."
"Of course! Of course!"
"A wonderful property," murmured Mr. Barrows regretfully. "The bonds were perfectly good. There was a defect in the foreclosure proceedings which made them a permanent underlying security of the reorganized company—under The Northern Pacific R.R. Co. vs. Boyd; you know—but the court refused to hold that way. They never will hold the way you want, will they?" He looked innocently at Mr. Tutt.
"No," agreed the latter with conviction, "they never will!"
"Now those bonds were as good as gold," went on the old man; "and yet they said I had to go to prison. You know all about it. You were my lawyer."