"Sure, we are!"
"It's a lie!" said the boy again. "I was in a hole. I needed money. You
told me you knew a man who would lend it to me. That's why I came here
with you, and then--and then you held me here with your revolver, and
began to open that safe."
"Sure!" returned Laroque, for the third time. "Sure--that's right! Well,
what's the answer?"
"This!" cried the boy wildly. "I don't know what your game is, but this
is my answer! Do you think I would have touched that money, or have let
you--once I got out of here where I could have got help! I'm not a
thief--whatever else I may be. That's my answer!"
Niccolo Sonnino's smile was oily.
"It is a little late, is it not?" he leered. "Listen, my little young
friend; I will tell you a story. You work for a bank, eh? The bank does
not like its young men to speculate--yes? But why should you not
speculate a little, a very little, if you like--if you get the very
private and good tips, eh? It is not wrong--no, certainly, it is not
wrong. But at the same time the bank must not know. Very well! They
shall not know--no one shall know. You are not the young Mr. Archman any
more, you are--what is the name?--Martin Moore.
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