“You know then his compact with my father?”
“I know of it. I was the only one that did know of it outside of your father and Bradley Wentworth himself.”
“Then you probably know how basely he refused to pay my father the sum agreed upon for his sacrifice of reputation.”
“I know that, too. The sum was twenty thousand dollars, was it not?”
“Yes, it was a debt of honor, or should have been considered such. I don’t care so much for the money, but it was the price of my father’s sacrifice, and in justice to his memory and his ruined life, I want this man to pay it.”
“That’s sentiment, youngster. I should want the money for itself.”
“I can earn my own living. I am earning it now.”
“Where are you working?”
“In St. Louis. I am traveling for Gilbert Sandford, of that city. He is a well-known merchant.”
“Never heard of him. You are young to travel for such a firm,” continued Hastings, eying Gerald curiously.