"Last week he paid off a mortgage on the farm of Mr. Pitcairn, and then made a present of it to the old gentleman."
"What was the amount?"
"Several thousand dollars."
"You are mistaken. Mr. Pitcairn told me of it three days ago. He had promised Mr. Gordon not to tell any one; but the farmer was so happy that he said he could not keep it back. It was only three hundred dollars, however."
"Then I was misinformed," Catherwood hastened to say with a flush; "but I happen to know he is speculating in Wall Street, and betting on the races."
"That is bad; is your information reliable?"
"There can be no doubt of its truth."
"Have you any objection to telling me the channel through which this knowledge reached you?"
"I would be glad to do so, but the source at present is confidential."
"Very well; I am sorry to hear this about Mr. Gordon, for, as you know, I held him in high regard. For the present, let us keep the matter a close secret. Do not let him see he is under suspicion, and we will not move until certain there can be no mistake in the matter."