"And about that line of credit?——"
"Well, with this paid, I guess you could have what you needed, in moderation. Of course——"
"My name is Duncan—Nathaniel Duncan." Sperry made a memorandum of it on the back of an envelope. "Any former business connections?"
"None that I care to speak about," Duncan confessed glumly.
Sperry's face lengthened. "No references?"
It took thought, and after thought courage; but Duncan hit upon the solution at length. "Do you know L. J. Bartlett & Company, the brokers?"
"Do I know J. Pierpont Morgan?"
"Then that's all right. Tell your people to inquire of Harry Kellogg, the junior partner. He knows all about me."
Noting the name, Sperry put away the envelope. "That's enough. If he says you're all right, you can have anything you want." He consulted his watch. "Hmm. Train to catch.... But let's see: what do you need here?"
Duncan reviewed the empty shelves, his face glowing. "Pills," he said with a laugh: "all kinds of pills and... everything for a regular, sure-enough drug-store, Mr. Sperry: everything Sothern and Lee carries and a lot of attractive things they don't.... Small lots, you know, until I see what we can sell."