"On what?" snapped Breen, something of his old dictatorial manner
asserting itself.
"On my word," replied Jack, with a note of triumph, which he could
not wholly conceal.
The door opened and the cashier entered. Breen handed him the
bonds, gave instructions about the drawing of the check, and
turned to Jack again. He was still suffering from amazement, the
boy's imperturbable manner being responsible for most of it.
"And does this pay Minott's debts?" he asked in a more
conciliatory tone.
"Every dollar," replied Jack.
Breen looked up. Where had the boy got this poise and confidence,
he asked himself, as a flush of pride swept through him; after
all, Jack was of his own blood, his brother's son.
"And I suppose now that it's you who will be doing the walking
instead of Minott's creditors?" Breen inquired with a frown that
softened into a smile as he gazed the longer into Jack's calm
eyes.
"Yes, for a time," rejoined Jack in the same even, unhurried
voice.
The clerk brought in the slip of paper, passed it to his employer,
who examined it closely, and who then affixed his signature.
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