"Very well, the General has two kinds of business, and he never mixes one with the other."
"I don't understand."
"Well, you know he's a manufacturer—got his start in that way. So he keeps that business by itself, and when he operates in Wall street, he operates outside of it. He never risks a dollar that he makes in his regular business in any outside operation."
"And you have it all in the little book?"
"Would you like to see it?"
"Yes."
"Very well, you shall, when I've told you all about it. I suppose that it must have been ten years ago that a man came to Sevenoaks who was full of all sorts of inventions. I tried some of them, and they worked well; so I went on furnishing money to him, and, at last, I furnished so much that he passed all his rights into my hands—sold everything to me. He got into trouble, and lost his head—went into an insane hospital, where I supported him for more than two years. Then he was sent back as incurable, and, of course, had to go to the poor house. I couldn't support him always, you know. I'd paid him fairly, run all the risk, and felt that my hands were clean."
"He had sold everything to you, hadn't he?" inquired Mrs. Dillingham, sympathetically.
"Certainly, I have the contract, legally drawn, signed, and delivered."
"People couldn't blame you, of course."