"I don't care to tell," said Rufus.
"I know well enough. It's money and bonds. You're in a broker's office, aint you?"
"I can't stop to answer questions," said Rufus, coldly. "I'm in a hurry."
"I'll find out in spite of you," said Martin. "You can't dodge me as easy as last time. I aint so poor as I was. Do you see that?"
As he spoke he drew out a roll of bills (they were counterfeit, but Rufus, of course, was not aware of that), and displayed them.
Our hero was certainly astonished at this display of wealth on the part of his step-father, and was puzzled to understand how in the brief interval since he last saw him he could have become so favored by fortune, but his conjectures were interrupted by his arrival at the office.
"Turner!" repeated Martin to himself, observing the sign. "So this is where my dootiful step-son is employed. Well, I'm glad to know it. It'll come handy some day."
So saying, he lighted a fresh cigar, and sauntered away with the air of a man of independent means, who had come down to Wall Street to look after his investments.