"Well, but what have we got to do with the bonds after we sell them? We are not running the mine, we're only getting money for them to run it on, and incidentally our commissions," and he smiled knowingly. "The trust company does the same thing. This widow-and-orphan business is about played out in the Street. The shrewdest buyers we have are just these people, and they get their cent per cent every time. Don't you bother your dear old head over this matter; just be glad it's coming out all right--I am, I tell you!" Gregg had risen from his chair and was standing over Philip with a troubled look on his face. "Phil," he said slowly, "look at me. From what you tell me, you can't issue these bonds! You can't afford to do it--no honest man can!" The young financier lay back in his chair and broke out into laughter. "Old Gentleman," he said, as he reached up his hand and laid it affectionately on Gregg's waistcoat--it was a pet name of his--"you just stick to your brushes and paints and I'll stick to my commissions. If everybody in the Street had such old-fashioned notions as you have we'd starve to death. We've got to take risks, everybody has. You might as well say that when a stock is going up and against us we shouldn't cover right away to save ourselves from further loss; or that when it's going down we shouldn't sell and saddle the other fellow with the slump while we get from under. Now I'm going home to tell Madeleine the good news; she's been on pins and needles for a week." Gregg began pacing the floor, his hands behind his back. His movements were so unusual and his face bore so troubled a look that Philip, who had thrown away his cigar and had picked up his hat preparatory to leaving the room, delayed his departure. Adam halted in front of him and now stood gazing into his face, an expression on his own that showed the younger man how keenly he had taken the refusal. "I know I'm old-fashioned, Phil--I have a right to be. I come of old-fashioned stock--so do you. All that you tell me of your father convinces me that he was an upright man. He was severe at times, and dominating, but he was honest. Your mother's purity and goodness shine out here," and he pointed to the portrait. "This is your heritage, and your only heritage--something that millions of money cannot buy, and which you cannot sell, no matter what price is paid you for it. You, their son"--Gregg stopped and hesitated, the words seemed to clog in his throat--"must not--_shall not_!" (the way was clear now) "commit a crime which would bring a blush to their cheeks if they were alive to-day. Don't, I beseech you, my boy, lend your young manhood to this swindle. It is infamous, it is damnable. It shall not--_cannot_ be. You love me too well to refuse; promise me you will stop this whole business."