s the son read with a pang of sudden
realization the approaching atrophy of age. "I'm sorry to intrude on
your office hours, Hamilton," began the father, "but the fact
is--I--er--I--" he broke off confusedly.

Tom Burton was mightily changed, but now and again an echo of the old
self harassed his reincarnation. He had never learned to beg for money
with the unabashed ease of an aristocratic parasite. While it was in his
pocket he could top the extravagance of a drunken sailor, but when its
lack drove him again to his bountiful son he came haltingly--covered
with confusion.

"What is it, father?" Hamilton clapped the old gentleman on the shoulder
and declared, "When you come others can wait."

Tom Burton flushed deeply. "I--er--well, I've had a notice of over-draft
from my bank."

Hamilton Burton's brows contracted.

"Did they keep you sitting here, cooling your heels like a book-agent
until I arrived? Why didn't you go direct to Corbin? He has _carte
blanche_ to accommodate you in every demand you choose to make."

Again Tom Burton spoke hesitantly.

"I did--er--mention it to Mr. Corbin. He was very polite, but he
suggested that, unless I was in urgent haste, I'd better wait until you
came in.... He reminded me that--er--that I'd made rather heavy demands
of late, and I'm bound to say it's true."

The young financier threw back his head and his eyes burst into a blaze
of white-hot anger.

"Hell-fire and damnation!" he stormed. "Is my money my own or is it to
be doled out by parsimonious hirelings? Must I beg my servants' consent
to supply my family with funds?"

"Mr. Corbin was very courteous," placated the old man in a mild voice.

"Courteous!" The word crackled like a mule whip. "Who is Corbin to be
patronizingly courteous to my father? Are you to approach me only
through a cordon of lackeys?" He broke off and started to slam his palm
down on a table-bell that should bring the too-careful subordinate face
to face with his anger, but he stayed his hand half-way, and began
talking again.

"Back there in those damned hills, when I begged you to gamble on me,
didn't I tell you that I meant to give you more than you could ever
want? Didn't I tell you that it would be my pride to anticipate and
outdo your whims--to dwarf them with bigger things? You _did_ gamble on
me, when a little money was a frail barrier between you and the
wolf--you gambled to go stark-broke." He was pacing the room now as he
talked, an