“He's made a little mistake,” answered Jim Morrison, who by this time was feeling more at his ease. “I didn't give him no bonds.”
Willis Ford looked triumphant, and Grant amazed.
“How, then, could there be any business between you?”
“I may as well own up that I am a gambler,” replied Morrison, with virtuous frankness. “The boy lost the money to me at play, and said he'd meet and pay me at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I didn't know where he was goin' to get the money, but I expect he must have stolen the bonds, and got it that way.”
Considering the damaging nature of the revelation, Grant showed considerable self-command. He did not turn pale, nor did he look guilty and conscience-stricken.
“What have you to say to this charge, Grant?” asked the broker.
“It is not true, sir.”
“What a hardened young villain!” said the housekeeper, in a low, but audible voice.
“Mr. Reynolds will hardly believe you,” said Ford, turning upon our hero and speaking in a tone of virtuous indignation. “You see, sir,” he continued, addressing the broker, “that I was right in my conjecture.”
“I am not quite satisfied yet,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Grant, call the boy.”