Here he unlocked a drawer, took out a still smaller key--a flat
one this time--removed some books and a small Barye bronze tiger
from what appeared to be a high square table, rolled back the
cloth, bringing into view an old-fashioned safe, applied the key
and swung back a heavy steel door. Here, still crooning his song
in a low key, dropping it and picking it up again as he moved--
quite as does the grave-digger in "Hamlet"--he drew forth a long,
flat bundle and handed it to Jack.
"Take them, Mr. Breen, and put them in your inside pocket. There
are ten United States Government bonds. If these Breen people will
not lend you the amount of money you want, take them to Mr.
Grayson's bank. Only do not tell him I gave them to you. I bought
them yesterday and was going to lock them up in my safe deposit
vault, only I could not leave my shop. Oh, you needn't look so
scared. They are good," and he loosened the wrapper.
Jack sprang from his seat. For a moment he could not speak.
"But, Mr. Cohen! Do you know I haven't any security to offer you,
and that I have only my salary and--"
"Have I asked you for any?" Isaac replied with a slight shrug, a
quizzical smile crossing his face.
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