Garry's sudden death had already led him to waste a few more
minutes of his time than he was accustomed to on a morning like
this, unless there was business in it.
He turned sharply, looked at Jack for an instant, and dropped into
the revolving chair fronting his desk.
Then he said in a tone of undisguised surprise:
"Lend you ten thousand dollars! What for?"
"To clear up some matters of Garry's at Corklesville. The
Warehouse matter has been closed out, so Corinne tells me."
"Oh, that's it, is it? I thought you wanted it for yourself. Who
signs for it?"
"I do."
"On what collateral?"
"My word."
Breen leaned back in his chair. The unsophisticated innocence of
this boy from the country would be amusing if it were not so
stupid.
"What are you earning, Jack?" he said at last, with a half-
derisive, half-humorous expression on his face.
"A thousand dollars a year." Jack had never taken his eyes from
his uncle's face, nor had he moved a muscle of his body.
"And it would take you ten years to pay it if you dumped it all
in?"
"Yes.
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