“Yes,” grumbled Morrison, “but as he won't have any money for me, I don't feel as anxious as I should otherwise.”
“What'll you say to him?”
“I don't know yet. I want to find out whether Ford has told the truth about the bonds. I believe he stole 'em himself.”
Five minutes later Grant entered the reading-room. A quick glance showed him, not only the two he had come to meet, but the quiet, little man who was apparently absorbed in a copy of the Boston Journal. He went up at once to meet them.
“I believe I am in time,” he said.
“Yes,” answered Jim Morrison. “Have you brought the money?”
“No.”
“Why not?” demanded Morrison, with a frown.
“There was something wrong about the bonds you gave me to sell.”
“Weren't they all right? They weren't counterfeit, were they?”