"It's almost time for Grant to come," said Tom, after a pause.
"Yes," grumbled Morrison, "but as he won't have any money for me, I
don't feel as anxious as I should otherwise."
"What'll you say to him?"
"I don't know yet. I want to find out whether Ford has told the
truth about the bonds. I believe he stole 'em himself."
Five minutes later Grant entered the reading-room. A quick glance
showed him, not only the two he had come to meet, but the quiet,
little man who was apparently absorbed in a copy of the Boston
Journal. He went up at once to meet them.
"I believe I am in time," he said.
"Yes," answered Jim Morrison. "Have you brought the money?"
"No."
"Why not?" demanded Morrison, with a frown.
"There was something wrong about the bonds you gave me to sell."
"Weren't they all right? They weren't counterfeit, were they?"
"They were genuine, but---"
"But what?"
"A lady claims that they belong to her--that they were stolen from
her. Of course you can explain how they came into your hands?"
"They were given me by a party that owed me money. If he's played a
trick on me, it will be the worse for him. Did you sell them?"
"Yes.
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