Storm shook his head.
“I’ve been thinking that I’d like to take a trip somewhere, later on,” he said slowly, watching the other’s face through narrowed lids. “A long trip; China or South America or way up North. I could come back and start all over again——”
“But your position with the Trust Company?” George sputtered. “They couldn’t put a man in your place and then oust him for you when you came back.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to,” Storm responded. “To tell you the truth, I feel that I’ve been stagnating there, too. It’s a sinecure and I’ve been content to drift along sure of the income and not taking chances, but I’m responsible for no one else now and I can afford a risk.”
George rose.
“Don’t do anything rash,” he advised. “Fifteen thousand a year is a mighty safe little bet in these uncertain times, and you’ve never known what it is to get out for yourself, you know. You’ve got the habit of luxury——”
“And no business head? Thanks,” drawled his host pleasantly. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself and kill the goose until I find golden eggs elsewhere. That notion of a trip was just an impulse. I may get over this restless fit and settle down here permanently, after all. I like these rooms of Jim’s, and town looks good to me.”
Nevertheless, the next day found him in Wendle Foulkes’ office facing the keen old attorney with an air of quiet command which brooked no expostulation.
“How long will it take you to convert my securities into cash?” he demanded. “When we talked about it a fortnight ago I listened to you because of my wife, but now I’ve only myself to consider, and I have a right to take a risk with my own if I feel inclined.”
“Of course you have, my boy,” Foulkes returned slowly. “I have gone beyond my province, perhaps, in trying to influence you, but I promised your father—however, I’ve nothing more to say. I will have the cash for you in ten days. You have exactly fifty thousand dollars, on which you’ve been getting six per cent; I hope you’ll be able to better it.”