"Europe? In the usual place on the map, I suppose." "You didn't bring it back with you, then?" "Not a great deal of it. They mightn't have let it through the customs." Dr. Surtaine snapped a rubber band from a packet of papers lying on his desk. "Considering that you seem to have bought it outright," he said, twinkling, "I thought you might tell me what you intend doing with it. There are the bills." "Have I gone too heavy, sir?" asked Hal. "You've never limited me, and I supposed that the business--" "The business," interrupted his father arrogantly, "could pay those bills three times over in any month. That isn't the point. The point is that you've spent something more than forty-eight thousand dollars this last year." Hal whistled ruefully. "Call it an even fifty," he said. "I've made a little, myself." "No! Have you? How's that?" "While I was in London I did a bit of writing; sketches of queer places and people and that sort of thing, and had pretty good luck selling 'em. One fellow I know there even offered me a job paragraphing. That's like our editorial writing, you know." "Fine! That makes me feel easier. I was afraid you might be going soft, with so much money to spend." "How I ever spent that much--" "Never mind that. It's gone. However, we'll try another basis. I'd thought of an allowance, but I don't quite like the notion. Hal, I'm going to give you your own money." "My own money? I didn't know that I had any." "Well, you have." "Where did I get it?" "From our partnership. From the old days on the road." "Rather an intangible fortune, isn't it?" "That old itinerant business was the nucleus of the Certina of to-day. You had a profit-sharing right in that. You've still got it--in this. Hal, I'm turning over to you to-day half a million dollars." "That's a lot of money, Dad," said the younger man soberly. "The interest doesn't come to fifty thousand dollars a year, though." "More than half; and that's more than plenty." "Well, I don't know. We'll try it. At any rate, it's your own. Plenty more where it comes from, if you need extra." "I shan't. It's more than generous of you--" "Not a bit of it. No more than just, Boyee. So let the thanks go." "All right, sir. But--you know how I feel about it." "I guess I know just about how you and I feel toward each other on anything that comes up between us, Boyee." There was a grave gentleness in Dr. Surtaine's tone. "Well, there are the papers," he added, more briskly. "I haven't put all your eggs in one basket, you see."