was a brilliant young
architect, with a dashing way about him, of whom Morris was proud. This
image he could not and would not destroy. And yet something must be
done to switch Peter from the main subject--at least until Cohen should
leave.

"The fact is I have just had an interview with Uncle Arthur, and he has
rather hurt my feelings," Jack continued in explanation, a forced smile
on his face. "I wanted to borrow a little money. All I had to offer as
security was my word."

Peter immediately became interested. Nothing delighted him so much as to
talk over Jack's affairs. Was he not a silent partner in the concern?

"You wanted it, of course, to help out on the new work," he rejoined.
"Yes, it always takes money in the beginning. And what did the old fox
say?"

Jack smiled meaningly. "He said that what I called 'my word' wasn't
a collateral. Wanted something better. So I've got to hunt for it
somewhere else."

"And he wouldn't give it to you?" cried Peter indignantly. "No, of
course not! A man's word doesn't count with these pickers and stealers.
Half--three-quarters--of the business of the globe is done on a man's
word. He writes it on the bottom or on the back of a slip of paper small
enough to light a cigar with--but it's only his word that counts.
In these mouse-traps, however, these cracks in the wall, they want
something they can get rid of the moment somebody else says it is not
worth what they loaned on it; or they want a bond with the Government
behind it. Oh, I know them!"

Cohen laughed--a dry laugh--in compliment to Peter's way of putting
it--but there was no ring of humor in it. He had been reading Jack's
mind. There was something behind the forced smile that Peter had
missed--something deeper than the lines of anxiety and the haunted look
in the eyes. This was a different lad from the one with whom he had
spent so pleasant an evening some weeks before. What had caused the
change?

"Don't you abuse them, Mr. Grayson--these pawn-brokers," he said in his
slow, measured way. "If every man was a Turk we could take his word, but
when they are Jews and Christians and such other unreliable people, of
course they want something for their ducats. It's the same old pound
of flesh. Very respectable firm this, Mr. Arthur Breen & Co.--VERY
respectable people. I used to press off the elder gentleman's coat--he
had only two--one of them I made myself when he first came to New
York--but he has forgotten all abou