"I know," Perkins persisted, "but see what our Skinner's habits have been in the past—penurious. Why the sudden change? You know just as well as I do that a clerk can't travel around with the rich."
"Why not? The man's been saving money for years—got a bank account. All these little things we've noticed you could cover with a few hundred dollars. Come, Perk, out with it! Just what do you mean?"
"It's only a suggestion, Mac, not even a hint—but Pullman cars are great hot-beds for hatching all kinds of financial schemes. That's where you get your Wall Street tips—that's where they grow."
McLaughlin looked serious. He drummed on his desk with the paper-cutter and waited.
"Tips are very good when they go right," Perkins went on, "but when they go wrong—" He hesitated.
"I get you. They're dangerous to a man who is employed in a fiduciary capacity," said McLaughlin very quietly.
"I believe as you do," urged Perkins, "that Skinner is the most honest and loyal man in America—but other honest and loyal men—well, darn it, they're all human."
"Well?" McLaughlin observed, and waited.
"It's a part of wisdom to be cautious. It's just as much for his good as it is for ours. An ounce of prevention, you know. Besides, it's our money he's handling."
"You may be right," said McLaughlin, rising. "But go slow—wait a little. I'll keep my eye on the Meadeville end of it for a while."