"There is such an institution as the Stock Exchange," he said blandly.
Mr. Hurd looked at him.
"Massachusetts Traction has been considered a very substantial security," Wilkinson went on, "so safe that its market value fluctuates very little, and so well regarded that the banks generally accept its stock as collateral at very nearly its market value. They accept it as a matter of course because they know its dividends are fully earned and paid regularly, and they have confidence in your management and don't go into the details. Your company has no bonded indebtedness; the bonds were all converted into stock years ago; if it was bonded, the bondholders would compel you to insure, whether you wished to or not. Perhaps the banks have forgotten that you are not forced to carry insurance, and are taking it for granted that you are exercising ordinary prudence along this line and insuring just the same. Suppose—only suppose—the intelligence should become diffused among certain gentlemen of State Street that you are likely to lose three quarters of a million dollars by fire if your new Pemberton Street car barn should go and the power house adjoining it be seriously damaged, and to meet such a loss you had an insurance fund of thirty thousand dollars. Do you suppose your stock would be quite so popular as collateral as it is now?"
He paused for a reply, but none came.
"Of course none of the directors of the company ever borrow money on that stock. . . . Need I say more, sir?"
It was evident that there was no need. If there were any of the directors who did not borrow money on the stock, Mr. Hurd could not think of them offhand. Once more he walked to the window, and this time he looked long and thoughtfully out over the level roofs.
"Your point is not badly taken. And in one thing you are probably right—State Street, if left to itself, would never raise the question," he said, half to himself. But Wilkinson's reply was ready and obvious.
"There are so many thoughtless people," he said softly. "One never can tell when such news might leak out."
His uncle surveyed him sternly. But Charlie's cryptic gaze met his uncle's, undisturbed.
"Some one might tell," he gently observed, and said no more.